CadyCakes
by jago-ji
Summary: Imagine Steph didn't lose her job at EE Martin? Imagine she never blackmailed Vinnie for a bounty hunting job…her life taking a different path? Imagine Ranger and Steph don't meet until much later in their lives. Will the attraction still be there?
1. Chapter 1 First Impressions

**CadyCakes**

_Imagine Steph didn't lose her job at EE Martin? Imagine she never blackmailed Vinnie for a bounty hunting job…her life taking a different path? Imagine Ranger and Steph don't meet until much later in their lives. Will the attraction still be there?_

_They're now fifty and a lot has happened in each of their lives to shape who they've become. Can 'happily ever after' begin at age 50?_

Author's Note: Most of the characters in this AU belong to their rightful owner, Janet Evanovich. I'm just borrowing them for a trip to Las Vegas (the setting for this story). The rest of the characters reside in my imagination, as does the storyline. And I am definitely not making one red cent from this, though while we're in Vegas I intend to do a little gambling.

Special thanks to _bgrgrmpy_ for all her encouragement and for painstakingly catching all those pesky little typos. Also, thanks to _Mik N'jirnav_ for her suggestions, especially the one to model 'mature' Ranger after Antonio Banderas, an inspiring choice to have him whispering sweet Spanish nothings in my ear while I'm writing.

**Chapter 1—First Impressions**

Ranger's POV

**She was gone! **

I searched the area for any sign, any little piece of evidence that would tell me more. I was an expert in finding clues anyone else would have missed, but there was nothing. The only proof she'd been here less than thirty minutes ago was the freshly painted wall.

I could still see her in my mind's eye as she danced to a silent tune and ran the paint sprayer back and forth along the block fence covering the graffiti of cuss words and gang signs that littered this part of Las Vegas. She'd been oblivious to the people, cars and sounds around her, enjoying herself and I imagine she'd been feeling good about improving the neighborhood.

I still didn't know what made me stop and approach her, but now I couldn't seem to think of anything else but her. She was the first woman that had caught my interest in years and now she just up and vanished. I didn't know her name, where she worked, what kind of car she drove, nothing.

The only lead I had was she had some connection to a one-time community service project. I was frustrated beyond belief. Dejected, I drove back to the office.

Trying to pick up any detail that might have eluded me, I thought back on the day's events. The day had started out like any other. The fact that it was my fiftieth birthday was irrelevant. I'd stopped celebrating birthdays when I left home as a teenager. I certainly didn't want to be reminded now of how quickly time was passing.

I got up at 6:00 a.m. and completed my workout, no sparring today. Tank and I went over the day's schedule and assignments. Then I went back up to my apartment to get ready for an important business meeting where I hoped to convince a new client to sign with my company.

_Earlier that day…_

I took one last look in the mirror and made a final adjustment to the fit of my new black suit. It was the first time I'd worn it since it had been delivered last week. I looked damned good if I said so myself. I should for what it cost me. I still couldn't believe I'd succumbed to all the hype about Brioni suits, but during my last trip to Italy my gracious host, Don Giovanni, had insisted there was no better Italian suit than a Brioni.

I'd allowed myself to be measured and fitted and then chunked down nearly $10K for a fucking suit. It's not like I couldn't afford it, but it just seemed excessive and unnecessary. Oh well, the clients I was meeting with today were one of the country's main distributors of designer fashions, and they would recognize the quality of this suit. Maybe it would put RangeMan over the top as contenders for their security contract.

I made a quick stop at the control room to check in with Tank about tonight's stakeout. The catcalls started as soon as I got off the elevator on five. I shot the men a quick glare and everyone turned back to their work stations, though I noticed Santos was still smirking. I rarely wore a suit and the guys knew this was a designer suit tailor-made just for me. I expected some ribbing.

Tank and I took care of business and then I took the stairs to the garage. I couldn't help but smile as I slid into my new Porsche Carrera GT. Talk about unnecessary and excessive, but I just had to have it. The feeling of power and prestige when I drove it was a real turn on.

And besides, what else did I have to spend my money on? After living in Las Vegas the past twenty years, the thrill of high-stakes casino gambling, Vegas showgirls and hobnobbing with celebrities had lost its appeal. It was just like any other big city with a need for a large security firm that also did fugitive apprehensions. In fact, it was one of the more lucrative cities for a company like RangeMan, since many people in trouble with the law gravitated to 'Sin City.'

While idling at the intersection of Tropicana and Pecos Road, I noticed a group of teenaged girls standing on the corner, giggling and pointing at me or maybe they were pointing at my car. The light was still red so I turned to look at them and they immediately ducked their heads down, trying to look anywhere but directly at me. The girls' chatter and giggling increased and a full on smile spread across my face at the teenaged silliness. The light turned green and as I pulled away, one of the girls shouted, "You're so f***ing beautiful. I wanna have your baby."

I just shook my head and thought unfortunately it wasn't the first time that sentiment had been expressed by random females. Usually it had been by drunken women in bars, not by a bunch of girls young enough to be my daughters. It used to make me smile; now it just depressed me.

I continued to my meeting across town, but was stopped by another red light. The sound of laughter caught my attention again. Looking to the left side of the street, I saw a group of people spraying paint over graffiti on a block fence. It looked like a typical community service project.

Most of the people in the group seemed to be teenage punk rejects, but there was one woman who stood out from the rest. It was obvious she was quite a bit older than the others in the group, but the ring of laughing teenaged boys hovering around her told me she must still be quite a looker. As I watched, she threw back her head and I could hear her hearty laugh. Even at this distance, it was contagious and I found myself smiling for no reason. The light changed to green and I continued west on Tropicana.

The meeting with the upper echelon of Nordstrom's management team was a fairly quick and successful one. They signed the contracts on the spot. When I got into my car, I called Tank and told him to start the process of scheduling trips for the installation teams to key cities where the newer Nordstrom shops were located. We needed to install the full range of cameras, sensors and alarms in their department stores as soon as possible.

Over the last two decades, RangeMan had expanded exponentially and we now had offices or associate contracts with other security firms in more than half the states. RangeMan had exceeded my wildest expectations. We'd become a force to be reckoned with in the security business world.

An hour and a half later, I drove through the same intersection I'd passed earlier and noticed the only person still painting over graffiti was the woman I'd seen earlier. She was dancing while she sprayed over the remaining offending words and gang signs.

I didn't know what made me do it, but I pulled into an adjacent parking lot and walked over to her. The closer I got, the better she looked, even though her back was to me. If her front looked half as good as her backside she'd be one fine looking woman. She had a long mane of dark brown (or were they auburn?) curls and she was wearing a loose cotton shirt tucked into a pair of well worn but tight jeans.

There was a stretch of gravel between the lot and the block fence, but I was used to moving quietly and was directly behind her before she detected my presence. I obviously startled her and she spun around with the paint sprayer still going full blast.

To my utter surprise and shock, the spray caught me full in the face and upper torso coating me with beige paint before she was able to direct it away from me. I hadn't been that surprised in ages. It caught me off guard and despite the fact I was blinded by the paint, I started laughing. My personal motto was 'always be aware of your surroundings' and she'd been able to 'shoot' me before I could even react.

Momentarily blinded, I heard a genuinely horrified woman's voice exclaim, "Oh my god, I'm so sorry." I could hear the sprayer being turned off and, "_I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry_," then some rustling.

She touched my upper arm and said, "Let me wipe the paint off your face, please." I nodded and she held onto my arm as she carefully wiped as much of the paint as she could from my eyes, nose and mouth. She had a gentle touch and I was enjoying the feel of her hands on me. I was still shaking internally with laughter.

Finally, I felt her step away and I opened my eyes. All I'd seen of her face before she'd filled mine with paint was a flash of sapphire blue. Now I found myself gazing into two of the bluest eyes I'd ever seen. They were framed by long sweeping black lashes. I stared unabashedly at her as a flush of soft pink rose up her creamy white neck suffusing her cheeks with color until they reminded me of two blush apples.

She was very attractive in an understated way. She wasn't wearing much make-up, if any, and her hair was a wild mass of curls floating around her head. Not the kind of woman I normally went for…which was sophisticated, polished, composed…but there was definitely something there, something that touched a chord in me. My interest was certainly piqued.

"I am _so sorry_. I didn't hear you come up. You startled me. Are you alright?" she asked, concern evident in her face.

"I'm fine. Nothing a little soap and water can't fix." I kept staring at her even as I took the cleanest rag from her hands and continued to wipe my face and neck. She looked to be maybe in her early forties and was in great shape from what I could see. I towered over her by about half a foot. I was pleased to note she wasn't wearing a wedding ring.

"Are you _sure_ you're alright? I don't blame you for being angry, I could've injured your eyes," she said.

"Angry? I'm not angry. I think it's rather funny. It isn't often that someone gets the drop on me," I chuckled.

Dropping the soiled rag on the pile next to her, I held out my hand. "I'm Carlos Mañoso. And you are…? I'd like to know the name of the woman who's faster on the draw than me." I gave her my most winning smile, well, as winning as it could be with blotches of beige paint still clinging to my face.

As our hands met, I felt a spark of electricity enter me. The way her eyes widened I imagined she felt the same jolt. The atmosphere must be really dry for static electricity to occur. She took a quick intake of air and her eyes shot up to meet mine. The blueness of them struck me all over again. It was a moment before she spoke and her voice was a little flustered.

"It's…nice to meet you…Mr. Mañoso, but under the circumstances I'm extremely embarrassed. I've ruined your suit…and it looks very expensive. I insist on paying your dry cleaning bill."

I started to interject there was no need for that, but she continued, "On second thought, I doubt if a cleaner can get all that paint out. I promise…I'll pay for a new suit."

I refused to let go of her hand and even placed my other hand on top of hers. They were dainty and feminine, but also very strong. She had a firm handshake. "That won't be necessary. The suit's not important. No harm, no foul, Miss...?

She demurred, "I insist. I always pay my debts." She pulled her hand out of my grasp and I actually missed the contact. "Again, I'm beyond sorry. Please, tell me how much I owe you for that beautiful suit?"

Of course I wasn't going to take any money from her. I doubted she could afford to reimburse me for one of my regular suits let alone this top of the line designer suit tailored specifically to fit my massive frame.

"There really is no need for that. I'm fine. The suit is a non-issue. Please don't give it another thought, Babe," I said. Not knowing her real name, the endearment just came naturally, though I'd never called any woman that before. She was nothing if not persistent about the suit, but why wouldn't she tell me her name?

She reached out and ran her hand over the sleeve of my suit, then rubbed the fabric between her fingers. _"This isn't Brooks Brothers, is it?"_ she murmured more to herself than to me_. "It must have cost him several thousand at a minimum. Where am I going to come up with that kind of money?"_ she exhaled quietly.

Looking up at me, her expression changed from one of despair to one of determination. It was obvious she had no idea she'd said all that out loud. For some reason I found that trait humorous. I was such a guarded SOB and she was a breath of fresh air, so open even her private thoughts came tumbling out.

She continued, "If you could give me a week, I'll come up with a payment plan. How can I reach you, Mr. Mañoso?"

"Really, it's not necessary." Her determined look changed to a more intimidating one, reminding me of myself. Smiling inwardly, I pulled out my wallet and handed her my business card. She took a sharp breath as she looked at the card.

I continued, "I won't accept any money, but I'd love to hear from you again. Please call me anytime. And I wish you'd tell me your name so I'd know what to call you."

Shaking her head and giving me a small smile, she answered, "As I said, I always pay my debts, Mr. Mañoso, and this was patently my fault. If you'll tell me what it will take to replace your suit, I'll go over my finances and get the money to you as soon as possible."

"Please, call me Carlos and I don't want your money. I'd consider it payment in full if you'd tell me your name and agree to have dinner with me this weekend," I responded, looking earnestly into her eyes and trying not to come across as a jerk just hitting on her.

In a sardonic tone she said, "Great, I insult you by nearly blinding you with paint and destroying your expensive clothes and you respond by asking me to dinner. Doesn't that seem a little backward?"

"A little _forward_, maybe," I grinned hoping for a similar response back, but she just stared at me. "You aren't going to tell me your name, are you?" I asked, amused by her attempts at avoidance.

"The issue here is your ruined suit. I insist on paying you for it. As my dad always said, my word is my bond. On that, you can depend. As for my name, you've already guessed it." She gave me a small grin.

"What? I called you _Babe_ because I don't know what else to call you unless you give me a clue. You aren't a fugitive running from the law, are you?" I joked.

She tilted her head up and laughed that throaty laugh of hers, sending waves of warmth straight to my loins. I was definitely attracted to her. She'd been able to politely deflect all my inquiries about her identity, yet she was as tenacious as a pit bull about insisting on paying me back for my ruined suit. And it was ruined, but I wasn't about to accept any money from her.

She tapped my business card. "If I was a fugitive, I'd be quaking in my boots right about now. I see _RangeMan, Inc._ has a reputation for 'securing' anything. I imagine you always get your 'man'.

I smiled. The motto on our business cards stated 'we secure anything' meaning property or person. When I first started RangeMan we were just bounty hunters. We quickly expanded to providing security for homes and businesses. Now we also provided bodyguard services for VIPs.

She stuck out her hand and said, "Mr. Mañoso, I apologize again for my unforgivable behavior. I'll contact you within the week and arrange to make full payment for your suit. I wish we'd met under more pleasant circumstances."

Not only didn't I learn her name, I couldn't even get her to call me by my first name. I was losing my touch.

I took her small hand in mine noticing how warm she was. Most women seemed to have cold hands most of the time. She was effectively dismissing me. This was no ordinary woman. Most women were all over me, if not physically then verbally and they never sought to leave my presence voluntarily.

This woman gave as good as she got. And I wasn't intimidating her. I also didn't think I was making much of an impression on her either. I knew trying to pressure her any further would only harm my future chances with her, so I politely said goodbye and walked to my car. She turned back to her painting, ignoring me completely.

I looked for a car that might be hers, but mine was the only vehicle in the lot. I drove to the office to get cleaned up. If I could return quickly enough, maybe I could convince her to at least have a cup of coffee with me. _And find out her name!_

I pulled into the garage and with the luck I was having today ran into the day shift as they were leaving. I didn't have time to explain the paint that still clung to me, but trying to walk through a wall of jeering men asking questions I didn't want to answer was sorely trying my patience. I just glared and pushed through them and hit the stairs three at a time. I knew the guys would grill me about the paint tomorrow morning, but right now I had to get cleaned up and back to my Babe.


	2. Chapter 2 Not My Type

**Chapter 2—Not My Type**

Stephanie's POV

"_Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god_. He is the most gorgeous man I have _ever seen_. And what a body. Talk about sex walking."

I did a little happy dance picturing the tall, dark and very handsome man I'd just met. He reminded me of Antonio Banderas, but a little more massive through the chest and arms. He looked to be about my age, but he was in perfect physical condition judging from the way he filled out his now ruined suit.

He had an angular face set with perfectly symmetrical features, and his jaw line still had that sharp demarcation of a hard lean body. He had beautiful chocolate brown eyes that felt like they bored into my soul and luscious full lips I had to talk myself out of kissing. And his body rivaled anything you saw in the fashion magazines or on the Greek statues found in museums.

His skin was a beautiful shade of tan, reminding me of rich coffee with a generous splash of cream. I bet it tasted like a mocha latte with several spoonfuls of sugar, and not that artificial crap.

And don't get me started on his gorgeous shoulder length hair. It was dark brown, almost black, and looked silky to the touch. I hadn't noticed any gray hair, only lots of beige paint. I rolled my eyes remembering that I put the paint there. He wore his hair loose and free and it was sexy as hell. He had a deep rich, sultry voice that resonated through my body sending tingles to my clit…and my poor grossly neglected vagina.

And I spray painted him like a statue…he deserved pure gold. What a klutz I am. _Sheesh_.

I watched him drive away in a black Porsche Carrera. If I thought his suit was expensive, his car probably cost him half a mil. Definitely not in my league, as if I had a league. I'd sworn off men years ago, but if anyone could get me to break my vow of celibacy Carlos Mañoso would be the man.

What did I get myself into? I was on a limited income, so I was going to have to make some major lifestyle changes to find a way to repay Mr. Carlos Mañoso for the suit I ruined. And that was another thing. His card said he was the president of RangeMan, Inc., a security firm. Why did that name seem familiar to me?

I picked up all the equipment and debris from the graffiti clean up and walked to the alley where I'd parked my car. Two days ago I'd purchased my first new car in two decades. Since it was still within the 3-day cancellation period, I reluctantly decided to return my new Subaru to the dealer. That would give me nearly $400 a month to put toward Mr. Mañoso's new suit. If I also cancelled my landline phone and home Internet service that should total about $500 a month, which was a decent start to paying off my debt. Even that monthly amount though would probably take me half a year at least to pay off that expensive a suit.

I couldn't help feeling a little sorry for myself. Slipping into the driver's seat, I inhaled the new car aroma and sighed. I was going to miss this.

I picked up my cell phone and hit speed dial, "Lou, can you meet me at the Subaru dealer in about an hour?"

"Are you having problems with your new car already, Annie?" she asked.

"I'll explain when you get here and don't call me Annie."

"Then don't call me Lou. See ya in an hour."

0o0o0o0o0o0o

An hour later, I was sitting in my best friend's car as she drove me home. The Subaru salesman had tried his best to talk me out of turning in my car, even offering to extend the years I could pay it off, but I held firm. Now I was a bona fide pedestrian.

Mary Lou started in on me, "So, you told me that you ruined this guy's horrendously expensive suit and feel the compelling need to pay him back for his extravagant taste in menswear. I still don't understand why you had to give up your brand new car. You've been talking about it for a year now and it just doesn't seem fair. Surely this guy would understand if you paid him a smaller amount each month unless he's some kind of ogre?"

"He's not an ogre. Just the opposite. He doesn't even want me to pay my debt to him."

"Well there you go! Apologize again and send him a big basket of our best cupcakes and call it even, Steph. Don't put yourself in debt for some guy you don't even know."

"I'm not putting myself in debt. I'm tightening my belt to _pay off_ a debt. And I refuse to blow off this moral obligation, Mare. It was my fault and I always pay my debts." I nodded, trying to convince myself I was doing the right thing.

"What are you going to do for transportation without a car? The bus system in this town stinks." Mary Lou was right about Las Vegas' lousy public transportation, but I had a plan.

"I have a bicycle. I haven't ridden it in years, not since…well, it's been a long time so it probably needs new tires and a lube job or whatever bikes need. But it should get me back forth from the house to CadyCakes and I can use the company truck if I have to run errands farther away than a few miles," I explained.

"That's crazy and dangerous. People drive like maniacs and what about when it rains?" I rolled my eyes at her. Rain in Vegas was the least of my worries. Melting in the 100+ degree heat was more likely.

"OK, OK. Ride your damn bike. But have you thought about this…What was this guy doing sneaking up on you while you were distracted? Maybe he was going to mug you and you got him first." Mary Lou grinned as she swerved around a Cadillac going twenty miles under the speed limit.

"Right, Mare. The president of a major security firm who drives a Porsche Carrera and wears a suit that probably cost more than I've spent on clothes in my entire lifetime is going to mug the likes of me," I said sarcastically.

Coming at it from a different angle, she asked, "What does this incredibly rich, successful man with great taste in cars and clothes look like?"

I wasn't about to give her any more ammunition, so I downplayed my response though I couldn't face her when I answered. "He's a nice looking man, for an older guy, but he's not my type, so don't even go there."

"What _is_ your type, Steph? You've chased off more men this year alone than I could count even if I took my shoes off. If I still wasn't in love with Lenny, I'd be jealous. When are you going to give love a chance again? You can't live alone your entire life."

"I'm not good at relationships. It's better this way. We've been over this a million times, Mary Lou. Please let it drop. You and Krishna need to stop trying to fix me up with every Tom, Dick and Harry. I tried a Dick, remember that flaming fiasco? And I tried a Joe. That went up in flames too. Don't tell me third time's a charm, either, because I'm not superstitious…or gullible."

"You and Dickie divorcing had nothing to do with you. He was a sex addict and he boinked anything that moved. And Joe, well…it was a tragic accident, Steph. It had nothing to with your ability to maintain a relationship."

"How can you say that, Mare? We couldn't get past what happened. I was unable to come to terms with it and shut down. Communication is key to any relationship and I suck at it. If that isn't a relationship failure, I don't know what is."

I took a deep breath and stopped waving my arms around, but I was still ranting a bit. "After the way I treated him, I was surprised when Joe still tried to get back together with me even after we divorced. I just couldn't bear to see him every day. The wound was still too deep."

"Besides, I tried dating after Joe and I got divorced. No guy _ever_ asked me out for a second date. And the last few who asked me out never even showed…they stood me up. _Damn_…I couldn't believe I started scaring them off even _before_ the first date. What does that say about me? I stopped trying after that. What was the point?"

In a much calmer, quieter voice I continued, "I'm much happier living alone. I don't have to deal with anyone else's moods and idiosyncrasies. I have the absolute best friend ever," I reached over and squeezed Mare's shoulder, "and I have Krishna and a great support system at work and through all the volunteers involved with Cady's Kids. It's a good life and very satisfying. I don't need a man to make me happy."

Mare grinned, "A shower massager isn't nearly as good as the real thing to get your happy on." She shrugged, "I'm just saying."

I couldn't argue with that, so I leaned my head back and closed my eyes, trying to remember what the real thing felt like.

I grinned to myself when my mind drifted to a certain Latin hunk, except in my daydream he wasn't covered in beige paint anymore. In fact he wasn't covered in anything at all.

_Oh yeah, I missed the real thing._


	3. Chapter 3 CadyCakes

**Chapter 3—CadyCakes**

Tank's POV

I turned the black SUV off the main drag onto a side street and wound my way through a modest neighborhood composed of simple ranch houses set back from small front yards. I finally pulled into a parking lot and stopped right outside an expanse of plate glass windows that lined the front of the large red brick building. The place was hard to find. They obviously didn't rely on drive-by business.

Rolling down my window I inhaled deeply through my nose savoring the delicious smell of fresh baked bread. An undernote of mesquite wood and grilled meat intermingled with the yeasty bread smells causing me to salivate.

As I gazed into the left side of the store, my eyes lit up as I took in the dazzling array of cupcakes in all sizes, colors and arrangements. Looking in the windows on the right side of the building, I saw an old-fashioned diner with several people sitting on stools at a long Formica counter and at tables surrounded by black Naugahyde booths. The only identifier for the businesses were the names 'CadyCakes' painted in big bold letters on the left door and 'Cady's Comida Casera Sana' on the right door. [_Cady's Healthy Home Cooking_] Everything looked the same as the last time I was here.

Easing my large frame out of the vehicle I took three long strides and was inside the bakery. Besides the wonderful smells and sights of dozens of brightly decorated cupcakes filling the glass display cases, the other dominating feature in the shop was a very large framed professional photograph of a young girl about eight years old. The girl was wearing a simple blue dress that matched her deep blue eyes. She had short curly brown hair and a captivating smile. The picture hung on the wall between the bakery and the diner, next to the glass door that allowed entry between the two businesses without having to venture outside.

As I stood in the doorway savoring the sights and smells, an attractive woman walked out from the back kitchen carrying a tray of colorfully decorated cupcakes. I'd finally figured out her work schedule and timed my visits accordingly.

I had a hard time guessing her age. She could be in her mid-thirties to mid-forties; all I knew is she looked damned good. She smiled when she saw me and her incredible blue eyes took my breath away. When I'd first started coming in, those same eyes had held nothing but sadness. Today, they lit up when she saw me. Maybe my charming ways were finally wearing her down.

"Mr. Sherman, good to see you again. If I remember correctly the last time you were here you wanted a bunch of camo cupcakes. Are you here for more of the same or something different?" she asked as she carefully unloaded little iced cupcakes decorated with jungle animals into the front display case.

A shy smile twitched at the corners of my mouth as I stepped over to the counter. I towered over her, but she seemed not to notice. Most women, especially white women, backed away from me.

She was a slender five foot seven inches, and I was a foot taller and weighed in at over 300 pounds. She had porcelain white skin and I was a very dark-complected African American. She had thick curly brown hair and the shine off my bald head could blind a water buffalo. Her piercing blue eyes sparkled as they looked directly up into my brown ones. She looked like a delicate flower; I looked like your worst nightmare.

And as always, she made me nervous. Hesitantly, I said, "Mr. Sherman is my dad. Please, call me what my friends do. _Tank_."

She tilted her head back and laughed. She had a great laugh, one that made you want to join in. "Well, that's self-explanatory. Tank it is. What can CadyCakes do for you today, Tank?"

"Well, if you're going to call me Tank, it's only fair that I call you by your first name, too." I hinted, hoping this time she would let me in a little.

She chewed on her lower lip for a second before responding. "You know everyone here just calls me Mom."

"I'm not going to call you _Mom_. I'm quite a bit older than you and I only have one mother and she's passed. Come on, just between us, tell me your first name…please?" I could see my 'please' got to her.

"I doubt you're older than me…" She saw my eyebrow raise and my eyes narrow and she chuckled, "OK, Tank. Fair's fair. My name's Stephanie, but my friends call me Steph."

Success! Last time I'd asked, she deflected the question and I hadn't persisted. _Stephanie_. It suited her.

"Is that all you wanted, Tank, or do you want some of my cupcakes too?" she teased.

I thought I'd been nervous trying to wheedle her name out of her, but this next subject had me in a sweat. I'd been brought up not to talk about certain things with the opposite sex.

"The guys loved the camo cupcakes, but this time I want…something…a little different."

If one looked closely at me, they'd notice a slight reddening of my cheeks. I couldn't look her in the eyes, so I dipped my head down and hemmed and hawed for a minute and then stuck my hands in the top pockets of my cargo pants. It was obvious I was embarrassed. And then I got embarrassed for being embarrassed. I was 50 years old and was an ex-Army Ranger. Surely I could talk to a woman about cupcakes, even if it was about naughty cupcakes.

"The guy they're for is an ex-soldier just like Hal, the guy I got the camo ones for, but Lester has a more _notable_ trait than being a military man. Lester is a…a player…a ladies' man." I was still having a hard time maintaining eye contact with the attractive woman behind the counter. She seemed mildly amused by my discomfiture.

"So, you want one of our X-rated packages? We have X, XX and XXX. How explicit do you want to get, Tank?"

She put it so bluntly I was taken aback. I'd been coming to CadyCakes for half a year now and my impression of Stephanie_, I really liked her name_, was of a sweet, innocent woman who made cute cupcakes. Thinking of the not so cute treats I wanted to order made me take a big gulp of air. I didn't think it would be this hard.

In a voice barely above a whisper I asked, "What are my choices?"

She tried to contain a chortle and had to cough to hide her amusement at my obvious unease. She was wearing a chocolate-smeared white tunic over a pink 'CadyCakes' t-shirt and blue denim jeans.

"Let me illustrate the differences," she said. 'This is X," and she turned to her side and slipped the tunic off one shoulder and gave me a wink. "This is XX," she said as she dropped the tunic to her hips and shimmied her chest a little. I nearly lost it then and there. "And this," she took the tunic completely off and, with hands on her hips, struck a suggestive pose, "is XXX."

She was so cute about it and obviously trying to get me to laugh, I finally relaxed a bit and actually smiled at her play-acting.

"Let's shoot for something in the XX to XXX range," I croaked.

She continued asking questions. "How many cupcakes do you want this time?"

I paused as I counted up the men on the three shifts. "I think thirty would do it. There's only twelve of us on the day shift, but if I don't get some for the smaller evening and night shifts, I'll never hear the end of it."

"We usually sell by the dozen, so would thirty-six be okay?" she asked. I nodded.

"Also, is there a particular kind of cake you like or do you want to go with a variety of our flavors?"

I wasn't sure what all the guys would like so she pulled out a tray of mini cupcakes and pointed out the various choices. Lifting a dark one up, she said, "This is our devil's food cake," and popped it into my waiting mouth. It was such a tiny thing I gulped it down like it was an M&M. I gave a little sound of satisfaction as the rich chocolate filled my taste buds. She pointed to another one for me to taste and said, "Try the lemon curd." We went through more than a dozen samples of flavors like chocolate, vanilla, mocha, red velvet, banana, spice and carrot cake. I decided I liked them all and went for the variety pack.

"May I make another suggestion?" she asked. I just nodded. I loved hearing her voice. It was very feminine and calming. But what she said next started me sweating all over again.

"Our most popular cupcake for an all-guy celebration is our _boob_ cupcake."

My eyes shot open and I was shocked at the casual, matter of fact way Steph said it, as if she took orders for 'boob' cupcakes every day. For all I knew, maybe she did. Steph continued as if she didn't notice my reaction.

"The boob is made of flavored, colored whipped cream and comes complete with a nipple. We can make them in a variety of colors, either all various flesh tones or brightly colored ones." She reached under the counter and brought out an order pad and ballpoint pen.

"I'd suggest we make thirty of those so each guy gets his own 'boob' to enjoy and the remaining six we could do in some suggestive poses. For _your_ crowd, since most of them are ex-military, we can do a background of camouflage or a tank or a gun of some sort and have an edible nude 'lady' made from fondant perched on top." I couldn't help chuckling at the visual image she described.

"We can make these six special ones in the whopper-sized cupcake pans," she pointed to a large tall cupcake in the nearest display case, "and they could be used as table centerpieces. I assume you want the others in the extra large like last time? That would make the boob about a double D cup," she grinned.

I was openly grinning at her suggestions and imagining the guys' expressions when they saw the XXX-rated treats. "That sounds great, Steph. Let's go with the variety of flesh tone ones and I like your idea of the centerpieces. I know Lester will appreciate the theme and most of the other guys will, too."

She was busy writing out the order, but must have picked up on my last comment. "MOST of the guys? Should I do a few 'penis' cupcakes along with the boobs?" she asked.

A horrified look crossed my face. Steph smiled and said, "We don't judge here at CadyCakes. We want to make everybody happy."

I cleared my throat and said, "Well maybe one of _that kind_ for Hector. He's the only openly gay guy we have, though I think a couple of the others would secretly appreciate the male theme as well."

Steph shook her head, "I don't think we want to 'out' anybody by their cupcake choice, do we? So, that's twenty-nine extra large boobs, one extra large penis and six whopper nude ladies? Sounds like quite a party! Now, when do you want to pick these up?"


	4. Chapter 4 Tank's Dinner Date

**Chapter 4—Tank's Dinner Date**

Tank's POV

We finished with the cupcake order and then I asked my leading question, "What's on the menu in the diner today?" I was starting to sweat again.

She tossed her head to shake her long curly hair away from her face and leaned over the counter to look through the glass door to the adjacent diner. "I think it's late enough so they'll be serving dinner, but if you want the lunch item, just ask. Lunch today was a turkey club sandwich and we still have plenty. If you want dinner, it's beef and chicken fajitas tonight."

"Dinner sounds and smells wonderful." I'd been trying to get up enough nerve to come in and ask this next question all week. Nervously, I waited until she looked back at me, "Would you join me, Steph? I hate to eat alone."

I was surprised but thrilled when she stepped around the counter. I crooked my massive arm and she slipped her slender arm through. Her small hand looked so tiny against my bicep. I flexed and her eyebrows went up. It paid to stay in shape even though I was no longer doing missions.

"I'm not fond of eating alone either, Tank. I'd be happy to share a tortilla or two with you."

Smiling, I opened the adjoining door and guided her inside the noisy diner. We found an empty booth and slid in across from one another. Immediately, a young girl came over with two glasses of water and greeted us with a smile.

My beautiful dinner companion smiled up at the waitress. "Two dinners, please, Samantha," she said. "The regular plate for me and the extra large for my friend, Tank."

The young girl looked over at me and smiled even wider. "The dinner tonight is fajitas. Would you prefer our grass-fed beef or free-range chicken?" she inquired.

I looked over at Steph to see what she wanted. She quickly spoke up, "I'll have the carne asada, but I think Tank would appreciate sampling both. And add some sopapillas for dessert, please," Steph smiled over at me and I grinned back. I rarely smiled, but she always brought it out in me.

Samantha laughed, "That's not a problem. I'll have your orders out in a jiffy."

A loud rumbling noise sounded and we looked up to see several chopped up Harleys come to a stop right outside the diner windows. A spark of caution shot through me as I realized that a half dozen of Hell's Angels finest were joining us for dinner.

To my surprise, Steph gave a huge smile and a wave to the new arrivals and popped up from her seat to greet them. The first biker came in the door. He was dressed head to foot in leather and chains with a dew rag covering his long greasy hair.

"Mongo, it's been ages. I've missed your scowling face." Steph threw her arms around one of the biggest, ugliest men I'd ever seen and that included the one I saw in the mirror each morning.

Each man hugged her as he came in the door. They were a mean-looking bunch, but Steph treated them like family. She seated them in the large corner booth and leaned her body against the biker on the end while she 'chatted' them up. I couldn't hear what they were saying, but they all laughed and seemed to be in a good mood. I didn't relax until Steph returned to our booth. She was in high spirits.

"Interesting clientele you have," I remarked.

She grinned. "Mongo and his friends rescued me one miserably hot summer day years ago when my crappy used car broke down on the highway when I was driving back from a business conference in Phoenix. They gave me a lift all the way back to Vegas and I thanked them by offering them a meal. They've been coming in ever since. They're really sweet. They even do volunteer work for Cady's Kids."

I glanced over at the rough looking bunch of misfits and shook my head. They looked anything but sweet.

Reaching across the table, Steph surprised me by squeezing my forearm. "I know I sent you a thank you letter, Tank, but I'm glad I have the opportunity to thank you in person for the generous donation you made to Cady's Kids."

Now I was embarrassed. While I loved that she initiated the first touch between us, I didn't want her attention focused on my donation to her charity. "It's a worthwhile program," I said. "And one close to my heart."

"Well, because of your generosity, we've been able to expand both our outreach and educational efforts. This month alone, Mary Lou had over 25 new families attend her Saturday diabetic cooking class. And our Kids were able to deliver twice as many meals to those needing home delivery."

"I'm glad I could help." She was still holding on to my arm and I was starting to sweat a little.

"What's most rewarding is that the majority of families showed up with both parents and the child, too." Grinning up at me, she added, "Either more fathers are taking over the cooking responsibilities or they heard they get to eat what they make in class and that our recipes are darn tasty."

I couldn't stand it any longer and put my hand over hers, noticing how soft her skin was. Her dainty little hand was dwarfed by my big black one. The contrast was startling in more ways than one. Not for the first time, I wondered if I stood a chance with her. While I was nervous around her, I also felt good in her presence. She always seemed to say the right thing to put me at my ease.

She pulled her arm back as Samantha brought over our sizzling hot dinners. I looked at the mountain of food before me and exclaimed, "I don't know how you can afford to serve such large portions at your prices?"

Steph laughed and then explained, "If you'll take a close look at your plate you'll see it's mainly composed of vegetables. The beef and chicken portions aren't skimpy, but we fill you up on the grilled red, green and yellow bell peppers, onions and tomatoes."

It smelled so good I was already filling a tortilla with the mixture of meat and veggies.

"All the vegetables are grown locally and we make our own whole wheat flour tortillas so we can control what goes in them; same with our breads." She was licking her lips and making her own fajita with the same gusto I was. This was a woman who enjoyed her food as much as I did.

I added some of the spicy rice mixture to my fajita as well and squeezed a wedge of lime over the whole thing. She continued, "We only use brown and wild rice because they have a lower glycemic index which serves to keep insulin levels in check."

I nodded as I chewed. "I remember that from the classes I took my mother to."

The memory of my mama was a painful one. The last time I was here Steph and I had talked about how her early death from complications of diabetes had affected me.

"If only she'd accepted her condition and took better care of herself. She refused to believe anything was wrong with her." I shook my head at the memory.

Stephanie nodded. "We find that especially with our older customers. They feel fine and can't understand why they need to change a lifetime of eating habits."

"Mama kept saying, 'It's just a little extra sugar in my blood.' Even when the doctor told her that 'little extra sugar' was like glass shards in her veins she still wouldn't change her ways." I loved my mama, but she was the most stubborn woman in the world. Not that I take after her, of course.

Pointing to the brochures on the counter, I said, "The education you do here is much more practical than what you get from most doctors."

Steph smiled at me as she finished chewing a big bite. "Medication and checkups are important, but we each can do our part by eating better."

"When food tastes this good, it makes it easy to eat right." I enthusiastically continued shoveling the delicious meal into my big mouth. "Maybe I should take your class sometime."

"You'd be more than welcome, Tank. We teach families the role good nutrition plays in fighting various diseases like diabetes, cancer and heart disease, but we also help them do something proactive by walking them step by step through what they should eat and how to prepare it."

"Are you one of the instructors?" I asked, thinking it might be a good way to get closer to her.

Steph nodded, "Yes. Mary Lou and I tandem teach the classes." I made a mental note to myself.

I'd been watching the front counter as we ate. There'd been a steady stream of customers coming in and picking up oddly colored Styrofoam containers, which I assumed were biodegradable cellulose.

"It's the take out and home delivery service you provide that I'm most excited about." I motioned toward the counter with my chin.

"If there'd been something like that when my mama was alive, she might still be with us today. I don't think she'd ever cook anything except her comfort foods, but if a plate of good tasting food like this was set down in front of her, she'd have eaten it in a heartbeat."

I shook my head again and took a large mouthful of black beans. "There's _bacon_ in here," I exclaimed. "What about all your healthy claims?"

Steph chuckled, "Just a hint to give it more flavor and it's turkey bacon, not pork. If it tastes good, people will stick with it. This isn't a diet, it's a way of life, Tank. Our motto is _all things in moderation_."

"I'm not much for taking things slow or in moderation." I grinned and patted my gut, which had become more noticeable as I got older.

She grinned back at me. "Our classes can help with that," she said, eyeing my torso. "If I hadn't changed my eating habits early in my life, I'd be bigger than a house now. Sweets were the base of my food pyramid." I had a hard time believing her; she always looked great and she owned a bakery and a diner. I'd be as big as a horse. Wait, I was.

"We've crafted our recipes so they take into consideration many special needs such as low sodium, low fat, low cholesterol, no refined sugars, whole grains and of course a greater proportion of vegetables to the amount of protein and starches."

"Whoa, too much information." I asked, "If you take out all the good stuff, then how do you make them taste so good?"

"You'd have to ask our incredibly talented chef, Krishna. Our registered dietitian, Mary Lou chooses the healthy, sometimes not so tasty, ingredients and Krishna takes them and figures out a way to make them taste great. She's says it's mainly in the method of preparation and use of fresh herbs and spices."

Steph gave me an odd look. "I think you'd like Krishna. She's got a bold personality…like her food."

Before I could respond, Samantha came over and asked how we liked the meal.

"It's delicious. The meat tastes like it's fresh off the grill," I told her.

She smiled and replied, "It is. We grill our meats and vegetables in the back over a mesquite wood grill. We also have a smoker we use. Nothing but the freshest here at Cady's."

Samantha turned to Stephanie, "Mom, there's a phone call from our produce supplier. Some problem with a check clearing? I'm sorry to disturb your dinner, but Krishna had to make an emergency run for more tomatoes."

Steph excused herself, "I need to take this. I'm in charge of the business side of CadyCakes." She slipped behind the counter and took the call while I finished eating. I was glad to finally know her real name. I couldn't bring myself to call such a fine looking woman _Mom_.

When Samantha delivered her loaded down plates to the Hell's Angels crew, the bikers got loud and boisterous, but were polite enough to their waitress. Samantha didn't seem phased at all by her outrageously attired and rowdy customers. She was friendly and at ease with her raucous, rough patrons just like Steph had been.

Glancing around at the rest of the customers, I was surprised no one seemed nervous they were sharing the diner with such a notorious group of hard-looking men. The other diners were mainly elderly people and families with kids. I would have expected some tense looks at the very least. Even the guys I hung out with drew unwanted attention when we went out as a group. I guess with Steph and the staff treating the Hell's Angels like part of the family, the other diners didn't bat an eye.

As diners paid their bill and walked to the door, many reached out to pat the large framed photo of the same young girl that was in the photo hanging in the bakery next door. This photo was much less formal and the little girl was dressed in a t-shirt and shorts and she was laughing, showing two missing front teeth. It was a joyous picture and one couldn't help smiling when looking at it. An elderly man passed by on his way out and patted the knee of the young girl in the photo saying, _'Bye, Cady. See you tomorrow, love.' _

As Steph hung up the phone, I noticed a tall, muscular, dark-haired man about my age approach her at the counter. He was dressed in an expensive suit and wore an abundance of gold jewelry.

He boomed out, "You're looking mighty fine today, Apple Cheeks. But you're working much too hard. Let me take you away from all this. I can get us into the VIP Room at the Palace where you'll be treated like a queen. How 'bout it? Tonight, we paint the town red!" He was trying to hold her hand as he hit on her. I felt my body tense.

Steph's jaw clenched and her eyes narrowed. "For the hundredth time, Harry, _no!_ I'm not going out with you. _Please don't ask me again_. My answer will always be the same."

It was obvious this had happened before and she wasn't happy about it. She pushed her way past him being careful not to touch him and sat back down across from me, a frown marring her lovely face. Mr. VIP Room watched us for several moments, glaring hard at me, before leaving the diner in a huff.

I couldn't resist saying something humorous to cut the tension, "If you want me to take care of him, just nod." I laid my finger against my nose in the classic mob gesture.

She chuckled, "No, but thank you, Tank. I think if either of you has 'those' connections, it's Harry, if you know what I mean."

She gave me a rueful grin before she continued, "It's my policy not to date, but some guys never take the hint."

"You mean you don't date men you meet through work?" I asked, dreading the answer.

She glanced up at me before looking down at her hands. "I don't date, period."

I stared at her in disbelief. What do you say when a gorgeous woman you would give your eyeteeth to be with tells you she doesn't date, _ever_?

"You're not joking, are you?" I finally said.

She quipped, "Relationships don't agree with me. Maybe I'm allergic to them." She looked up with a lopsided grin.

"I don't know what to say to that. Would it depend on who asked you out?"

"Nope," she said, with a small shake of head. "Been there, done that, there's not much left of my heart to go around anymore. I've got great friends and an all-consuming business to run. That's more than enough." My heart took a nosedive at her sad words.

Just then, we were interrupted by a family as they were leaving. A little girl about five years old came up to us and reached out her arms to Stephanie.

"Tell Cady '_Hi_' for me," the little girl lisped. "Tell her I've been eating all my _vegebullth_ and I haven't had any thweeth all week." The girl was cute as a button and her front teeth were missing just like the girl in the photo.

Steph pulled the little girl into her arms and gave her a big hug. Tears slowly filled Steph's eyes, but she was smiling. "I will, sweetie. And you can tell Cady 'Hi' yourself." Steph pointed to the large photo hanging by the door.

The little girl ran over and reached up to touch the picture of the little girl, saying, "Hi, Cady. I ate thweet potato frieth, the kind your mommy thaid you like and they were really good. Thee you neckth week. Bye, bye."

Her parents stayed a minute longer, telling Stephanie how much the cooking classes had changed what their family ate and how much better their daughter was doing maintaining her blood sugar levels. They confided their daughter said she didn't want to let Cady down by eating things she wasn't supposed to. After the usual pleasantries were spoken, they left.

I watched as the expressive woman sitting across from me gave me a glimpse into what had put such sadness in those beautiful blue eyes. Steph finally let fall the tears that had filled her eyes.

With a tremendous effort to keep her voice steady, she said, "Life doesn't get much better than that. As long as I keep this place open, Cady lives on in more hearts than just mine."


	5. Chapter 5 Another Cady Convert

A/N: Just wanted to thank everyone for sticking with this story despite the technological glitches this website has had. Unfortunately, some of your reviews are permanently floating in cyberspace and others finally made it here but never to me so I was unable respond to them. My apologies if you didn't get a personal response from me regarding your much appreciated comments. Hopefully, everything will go smoothly from now on.

**Chapter 5—Another Cady Convert**

Ranger's POV

_Another dead end._ I slammed down the phone.

Over the last five days, I'd called every agency and organization I could find that had anything to do with graffiti clean-ups, city beautification, volunteerism or youth projects. I discovered who owned the block fence, but the owner could only tell me some teenager had come into the store and asked if he and his friends could spray paint over the graffiti. The owner had no idea who the kid was, he was just happy to have the gang signs gone. No one seemed to know anything about the graffiti clean-up last week on Tropicana Avenue.

So, who was behind the painting project I witnessed…some vigilante graffiti remover group? That freshly painted fence was my only lead for tracking down my mystery woman. I was an expert in hunting people. It was my business and I was the best. So why couldn't I find any trace of her?

She promised to contact me within the week. It was now five days and counting. I believed her when she said she'd get back to me and I was a good judge of character. I just wasn't very patient.

Why this driving need to find her? What was so special about this particular woman, a woman I'd only spoken a few words with?

Whenever I saw a woman I was attracted to, I hunted, caught and released. There'd been very few women over the course of my life with whom I'd pursued an ongoing relationship. And most of those women had lives like mine; consumed with work and desirous only for a companionable sexual relationship.

Maybe once I caught my mystery woman, she'd lose her appeal like all the others. But until then, I was in full predatory mode and nothing and no one else would satisfy me.

I tried to bury myself in work this week, when I wasn't obsessing about finding her. My men noticed I was a little more _intense_ than usual, but shut up quickly after I stared them down. I also immediately shot down any of their inquiries as to why I'd returned from the Nordstrom meeting covered in paint. They should be used to my moods by now, some of us had been together for twenty-five years. Sometimes I think we're the only ones who can tolerate each other.

And now I had to play nice at a birthday party for Santos, of all things. What was I running here, a day care for wayward Black Ops rejects?

Tank's POV

When I drove over to CadyCakes to pick up Lester's birthday cupcakes, I'd hoped to talk to Stephanie, but she wasn't in. I wanted to tell her that someone in her neighborhood was slashing car tires and to be on the lookout.

After she and I had shared dinner together last week, I found two of my tires on the driver's side (the side away from the store windows) slashed with a single knife puncture. She'd left by the time I'd gone back in to warn her. Hopefully, it was an isolated incident and not the work of some serial slasher.

I'd set up the conference room with a '_Happy Birthday, Lester'_ banner and taped up several 'pin-up' posters of scantily clad women to set the mood. Down the middle of the large table were the six centerpiece XXX-rated whopper-sized cupcakes.

Steph and her staff had outdone themselves. They'd used different shades of fondant, from pink to dark brown, to create anatomically correct naked ladies and perched them on top of camo-covered cupcakes.

One cupcake showcased a well-endowed naked lady made of dark chocolate fondant straddling an armored tank…she was mine. Another had a caramel-colored hottie holding a rifle, complete with bayonet, across her ample bosom and then there was a pink-skinned blonde driving a jeep with her huge tits resting on the steering wheel. There was even one naked babe spread-eagle in a mine field holding grenades in strategic places. The guys would be fighting over how to split up these extra treats.

By each chair I put down a paper towel anchored with a root beer and either a strawberry, caramel or chocolate 'boob' cupcake, complete with a chocolate nipple. Ranger didn't allow any liquor in the office, not even beer, so the root beer was symbolic, plus it was Lester's favorite soft drink. Technically, Ranger didn't allow sweets either, but Steph had included the ingredient list in case he complained.

I shook my head as I set the last cupcake down. It was the one for Hector. I wondered what Steph had used for a model. It had to have been a well endowed white guy. I guess I should have told her Hector was Hispanic. The large pink penis, it was circumcised, sat upright nestled between two giant wrinkled strawberry pink balls. The thought of eating it nearly made me puke. I hope Hector appreciated the gesture.

Before I opened the door and let the boys in, I cranked up the volume on the stereo and let the strains of "I'm Too Sexy" fill the room. The guys came rushing in ready for a little sweet treat and to give Lester a hard time about turning the big 5-0. Lester ran his hands over each of the Victoria's Secret posters and then whooping loudly, grabbed a boob cake and sucked the whipped cream into his mouth, licking and slurping until he reached the cake portion. Santos was into immediate gratification. I chuckled at the x-rated comments about the x-rated cakes. All the guys were grinning until they spied the 'cock and balls' cupcake.

"What the f***?" yelled Cal. "The boobs are a great touch and I love the naked girls, but _that thing_ has got to go."

Then Hector walked in. I watched as he took in the decorations and grinned like the rest of the guys until he spotted the erect penis. His face said it all as a shit-eating grin spread across it.

"¿Para mí?" he said, looking directly at me. [_For me?_] I nodded yes.

He took the chair in front of it and popped the tab off his root beer. The rest of the guys relaxed and then the jokes started. Hector took it all in stride. He knew hazing was part of being on the team. Then they all started in on Lester. It got loud and raunchy.

I took a seat near the door as Ranger filled the doorway watching the men's interactions. We both knew this was a harmless way to let the guys blow off some steam. In this business, there wasn't a lot of opportunity to do so non-violently.

I offered Ranger one of the cupcakes, but he shook his head. In response, I handed him a brochure titled 'CadyCakes.' It was the typical sales pamphlet, but also extolled the healthy ingredients used. Of particular note was the fact that no refined flour or sugar or artificial sugars were used, but instead the company promoted the use of whole grains and blue agave nectar, which didn't raise blood sugar levels. There was also a low carb but high fiber count and the fact that each cupcake touted a full serving of vegetables in each cake.

Ranger knew his men were watching as he reached over and picked up one of the 'forbidden' sweets. I smiled to myself as Ranger scraped off most of the whipped cream boob and took a bite. It was barely detectable, but I saw a gleam in his eye and a satisfied look on his face. The fact that he finished the rest of the cupcake in three bites was all the proof I needed. Steph had made another Cady convert.


	6. Chapter 6 Steph Meets The RangeMen

**Chapter 6—Steph Meets the RangeMen**

Stephanie's POV

I'd already circled the building once and didn't see any place to lock up my bicycle and the only parking was on the street. I was approaching the underground garage for the second time when a black SUV exited the gated cavern. Pedaling a bit faster I ducked under the gate just before it closed. Now I wouldn't have to worry about my bike being stolen or have to lug it inside with me.

I entered the elevator and hit the first floor button. I had no idea which floor to go to so I figured I'd use the process of elimination. As the doors opened on the first floor, I stuck my head out. Nope, just the lobby. I hit two and did the same thing. When the doors finally opened on the fifth floor I knew I'd reached the right one. A mass of black-clad, muscle-bound hunks greeted me, though their faces were a blank mask. I felt their eyes inspecting every square inch of my body.

If I hadn't met Tank and Carlos first, the men's massive size and intense scrutiny would have intimidated me, but now I just found it amusing and mildly disconcerting. I'd finally put two and two together when I wrote out the bill for Tank's cupcake order and realized he worked for RangeMan, Inc. That was why the name was so familiar to me when Carlos handed me his business card. Small world!

Most of the men standing in front of me seemed to be about my age, but there were a few younger men. They were all in perfect physical shape and weren't bad looking either. None as gorgeous as Mr. Carlos Mañoso, but each and every one of them was a keeper…_if_ I was into such things, _which I wasn't_, I told myself.

I smiled at the wall of men and attempted to step off the elevator, but they didn't move. As the door began to close I stuck my arm against the rubber bumpers. That action elicited glares and looks of concern from the lot of them. For a minute I thought I was going to get yanked off the elevator and thoroughly frisked for hidden weapons. _Hmmm, that'd make for a fun fantasy._

One of the younger guys spoke up, "You've got the wrong floor, ma'am. Go back down to the first floor and check in with reception." _Ma'am? When had I gone from 'miss' to 'ma'am'?_

"Isn't this RangeMan?" I asked. The guys shot looks at each other, but no one answered me. I looked over the crowd of curious faces, but didn't see Tank. Maybe he didn't work on this floor.

"I'm here to meet with Mr. Mañoso," I informed them. That got their attention. I held out the business card Carlos had given me a week ago on that ill-fated day.

One of the older guys, an exceptionally attractive Hispanic man with green eyes, took charge. He smiled and his dimples would have a lesser woman swooning. I felt the corners of my mouth lift up into a smile I couldn't stop. Damn, he was good-looking. He waved the guys aside and let me exit the elevator.

"I'm Lester Santos. And you are?" He held out his hand and we shook, with him placing his other hand over mine. Tank was right; Lester Santos was quite the ladies' man. I wanted to ask him how he liked the boob cupcakes, but then Carlos would find out I was associated with CadyCakes and, as a security expert, he would know everything else about me. I still couldn't figure out why, but I felt I needed to keep things purely 'professional' with Mr. Sexy Suit Mañoso.

"Is Mr. Mañoso available?" I asked, avoiding his question.

He tried once more, "Miss…uh…." I looked up at him mimicking his blank face.

He frowned and continued, "Did you have an appointment with Ranger…I mean Mr. Mañoso?" he asked. I shook my head. Ranger must be Carlos' nickname.

Lester was the consummate professional. "May I ask what this is in reference to?"

No way was I going to tell this charmer that I spray-painted his boss. "It's a personal matter between Mr. Mañoso and myself. An incident that took place last week. I told your boss I'd get in touch with him within the week. Will he be returning to the office any time soon?"

"Mr. Mañoso should be here shortly. Would you care to wait in the conference room?"

"That would be fine. Thank you, Mr. Santos."

"Call me Lester, please. There are no 'Misters' here."

He escorted me onto the floor and it was clearly control center for RangeMan. There were banks of television screens, camera monitors, computers and a complicated-looking switchboard. Further down the hall there were office cubicles. The rest of the men had stepped back to let us pass, but a younger guy covered in tattoos leaned toward my escort and whispered something in Spanish.

Lester nodded and put his hand on the small of my back leading me toward a vacant conference room. He held out a chair for me and I settled in. Lester sat his butt down on the table in front of me and grinning, asked, "Would this incident have anything to do with beige paint and a brand new Brioni suit?"

I jerked back as if I'd been stung and felt my cheeks go hot. Did all these men know about my surprise attack on their boss? And my god, the suit I ruined was a designer Brioni? I could be paying off this debt for years to come.

I made a decent living running CadyCakes and the diner, but early on, I'd decided to take only a minimal salary so that most of the profits would go into our educational efforts. I owned a nice house and I had a decent investment portfolio, but I didn't really need a lot of cash to buy useless stuff. Right about now, I was regretting that decision.

I figured I'd bluff my way through and keep my answer vague. "It's a personal matter," I replied.

He seemed to let it go, but I knew my bright red cheeks gave me away. The whispered murmurs outside the door increased. I glanced out the door to see a bunch of guys standing in the hall trying to look casual, but were apparently eavesdropping. And they say women are nosy gossips!

Then Lester asked another unexpected question. "I'm curious. How did you get up here? Reception said you didn't come in through the lobby."

I was tempted to mess with him, but I could tell he was concerned. I must have slipped past their security measures somehow. "I came in through the garage as a car was leaving and before the gate closed. Then I used the elevator. Did I do something wrong?"

From the horrified look on his face, I realized I'd created a serious problem for him. He ran a hand through his short spiky hair.

"Would you excuse me for a minute?" he asked, jumping to his feet. Lester left the room and the crowd of men followed him down the hall. About three minutes later he returned with four other men in tow.

The questions started again. "You were riding _a bicycle_?" I nodded yes.

"The garage gate was open and you just rode right in?" Again, I nodded yes. Lester ran his hand over his head and cut his eyes to one of the other men.

He turned back to me. "Would you mind if we moved your bicycle to the first floor lobby?" Lester asked. He kept his voice even, but his fingers betrayed him as they nervously rubbed together.

"I didn't think a bicycle took up that much room," I said facetiously, "but I'll go down and move it right now. I'm assuming it'll be safe in your lobby since you're a security firm?"

"It will be safe, I can assure you, Miss…what did you say your name was?" he fished.

I walked past him, trying to keep from grinning. I didn't know why I was so adamant about not telling these guys my name. Thinking more about it, I guess I felt vulnerable around Carlos Mañoso and didn't want him to know too much about me. I'd been able to avoid any romantic relationship since my divorce and I wanted, no needed, to keep it that way. There was something about Carlos that threatened my control over my heartstrings. I just needed him to accept my money; he didn't need to know anything else about me.

As I walked back to the elevator, I explained to my black-clad entourage, "I didn't see anyplace to lock up my bike outside the building and then the garage gate opened…I'm terribly sorry if I breached your security. I wouldn't want any of you to get in trouble because of me."

I heard some under the breath mutterings behind me, but no one said anything directly to me.

I pushed the down button and the doors opened only to be filled by a large imposing man with a flaming skull tattooed in the middle of his forehead. He was carrying an armful of fast food buckets reeking of greasy smelling fried chicken. I assumed the large bags contained biscuits, French fries and maybe mashed potatoes and gravy.

Flaming Skull Man squinted his eyes and said to me, "You must be the owner of the bicycle with the tiger-striped banana seat parked in the garage." I nodded and backed up to let him get off the elevator causing the rest of the guys to quickly shift backwards, too.

"Yeah Cal, it's her bike. The one _you let slip by you_ when you left on your damn chicken run," Lester accused.

Cal's face turned white making the red and yellow of the skull's flames stand out even more. He pushed forward with his armload of food until we were all swept back into the conference room.

"Sorry, Tiger," Cal said to me. "We've got only minutes to eat this before our boss returns. He hates fast food," he explained.

The guys were grabbing pieces of chicken and cramming buttered biscuits into their mouths as he spoke. He handed me a thigh, extra crispy, but I shook my head. "Would you prefer a breast?" he tried again, his eyes straying briefly to my chest. "No, thank you," was my response to the proffered piece of breaded poultry dripping with grease.

"We haven't been introduced. I'm Cal." He wiped his greasy hand on a paper towel and held his hand out to me. The room grew quiet, all waiting for my answer.

I shook his hand, "It's nice to meet you, Cal. I guess I'm Tiger." He grinned. My old, outdated bicycle had just provided me with a new nickname.

Lester introduced me to the rest of the guys by pointing a finger and telling me their first names. Most of them seemed to go by a nickname of sorts. I began to feel right at home.

Within minutes, most of the contraband had disappeared down the gullets of ten hungry men. If this was their normal diet, they were all walking heart attacks.

"Should we save this last bucket for Tank and Bobby?" Cal asked. Lester grabbed it and ran out of the room while the rest of the guys gathered up the mess of chicken bones and soiled napkins. Lester came back and sprayed the room with an odor neutralizer that did little to lessen the strong smell of fried chicken.

One of the guys, I'd forgotten his name already, he was a pale-skinned, no-neck hulk with a sweet face, gave me a sheepish grin and asked, "Are you the paint lady?" I could feel the blush rise up my neck. He grinned, "Ranger's been burning up the phone lines and Internet trying to find you." Lester dug his elbow into the big man's ribs effectively silencing him. I didn't know what to make of that startling revelation.

Then Lester cut his eyes to me. "The bike!"

As one, we raced for the elevator. I hit the down button and the doors opened. The elevator wasn't empty this time either.


	7. Chapter 7 Stress Unrelieved

**Chapter 7—Stress Unrelieved**

Stephanie's POV

Carlos Mañoso stepped out of the elevator, looking hotter than ever. He was wearing a long-sleeved black shirt tucked into a pair of bun-hugging black jeans. Black cowboy boots completed his Bad Bart look, minus the black hat.

His eyes widened noticeably when he saw me and then his face lit up complete with a stunning smile. I felt myself go damp. _Crap!_ This was one dangerous man. I could feel the walls go up all around me and double locks closing over my heart. I'd need all the defenses I could muster to get out of this unscathed.

The first words out of his mouth were, "You came?"

I thought, '_Nearly! Keep looking at me like that and I will._'

He stared at me for a moment then burst out laughing. _Damn, please tell me I did not say that out loud_. I hadn't spilled my thoughts like that since college. Something about this handsome man unnerved me and had me acting like a silly schoolgirl. I wanted to crawl into a deep dark hole. I knew I blushed to high heaven.

"Babe, you're full of surprises. I was beginning to think I'd never hear from you." He kept staring at me. He obviously hadn't expected me to show up. Not a very trusting soul. Wise man!

"I always keep my promises. Is there somewhere we can talk?" I asked, conscious of a very interested audience pressing in behind me. With one look from their boss, the mass of men in back of me scattered.

"This way, please." A very polite Carlos guided me into his office. After seating me in a comfortable chair in front of his desk, he asked, "May I offer you something to drink?" When I declined, he excused himself and stepped outside.

I couldn't hear what he said to Lester, but from Lester's tense body posture it wasn't pleasant. Both had no expression on their faces. Maybe the ability to maintain a blank face was a RangeMan hiring requirement. I figured I was witnessing a dressing down even though Ranger never raised his voice. There was something about his look or stance that commanded instant obedience. Good thing I was never in the military. I didn't react well to orders.

After speaking quietly to Lester for a few minutes Carlos came back in closing the door. He joined me in the second chair a few feet away.

Smiling, he started, "I'm glad to see you again…Babe. I'm pleased you came in person. Can I give you a tour of our operations here?"

As much I enjoyed being in his presence, I knew better. He was just too damned handsome and charming. I needed this to remain a business-like relationship. "No, thank you, Mr. Mañoso. It looks highly technical and way over my head."

"Please, call me Carlos. And I really wish you'd tell me your name, even just your first name, so I can call you something other than _Babe_."

I smiled back, "Babe's fine with me. Can we get down to the business at hand?" I waited for some sign of agreement. He looked wary, but there was a slight dip of his head that I took for approval.

I removed a slim white envelope from my jacket pocket and held it out to him. I was silent until he took it.

"That is my first payment for the ruined suit, Mr. Mañoso. I will deliver the same amount once a month until my debt to you is paid in full. If you would let me know how many months it will take, I'd appreciate it."

Now knowing his suit had been a ridiculously expensive Brioni, I recalculated the payment period from months to years. I tried to keep my anxiety from showing in my face.

He glanced inside the envelope and sighed. Then he handed it back to me. I shook my head and held my hands in my lap.

He tapped the envelope on his knee several times, exasperation marring his deep sultry voice, "I can't accept this. I won't accept any money for a damn piece of cloth."

"Mr. Mañoso, I've gone to great lengths to raise that money. As I told you last week, I always pay my debts. I insist you take it." I stood up, preparing to leave. Carlos rose with me.

"Is that your bicycle in the garage?" he asked. I groaned but nodded. "Do you always ride a bike? Or…don't tell me…please, don't tell me you sold your car just to pay me?" A look of disbelief came over him.

"Bicycles are an excellent form of exercise and I like to do my part for the environment," I hedged and felt my cheeks go hot.

"Babe," was all he said.

Then he asked another unexpected question. "How did you get up here? All new visitors are restricted to the first floor lobby. Did one of my men bring you up here?"

There it was. How was I going to answer that truthfully without him blaming the guys?

"I take full responsibility for breaching your security. I didn't know I wasn't supposed to park in the garage. Please don't blame your employees. They were all waiting for me as I got off the elevator. I couldn't have gotten anywhere without their knowledge." I watched his jaw clench and I cringed as I heard the words coming out of my mouth. "They seem very competent," I added.

He was silent a good long while. "You sure do take responsibility for things that aren't your fault. The paint and suit were just an accident and you getting into the garage unnoticed is a blessing in disguise, because it highlights a weak point in our security. I should be paying _you_ for that."

"I appreciate you trying to let me off the hook, but a debt is a debt. I'll deliver the second payment to you in one month. Thank you for seeing me, Mr. Mañoso." I walked toward the door.

He followed close behind. "It's Carlos, please. I can tell this means a lot to you, but there must be some other way, some compromise both of us can agree on. Why don't you let me take you to lunch and we can talk it over."

"I owe you money. I'm not going to let you buy me lunch…Carlos." I could see he thought he was wearing me down when I called him by his first name. Maybe he was. He was awfully charming.

"You'd be doing me a favor, Babe. We're normally so busy around here, none of us eat lunch very often and when we do, it's usually junk food." He made a point of sniffing the air. "It smells like today's unhealthy lunch was very greasy fried chicken. You don't want me to get sick, do you?"

He gave me another of his 200 watt smiles. God, this man was stunningly beautiful, not pretty boy handsome, but manly man, drop dead gorgeous.

"One good lunch isn't going to save your life," I quipped, opening the door.

He stepped closer to me and his voice dropped an octave, "There must be some other solution, something besides money. Maybe a service of some sort?" I felt his hand on my back as he continued to talk.

His voice dropped another octave. "I could always use a friend, Babe. I'm under a lot of stress and having someone to talk to would be a great stress reliever. How about it? That could be a service you could provide?"

I couldn't believe what I was hearing…_and feeling_. His hand was still stroking my back and moving lower as we talked. Was he implying what I thought he was? I could feel anger boiling up within me. A stress relieving service. _Yeah, right_. Boy, did I misjudge him.

I let him have it with both barrels. I went from reserved to rhino rage in three seconds flat. First, I twisted around and slapped his hand away from me. Then I continued to let my hands do half my talking, waving them around like the good Italian girl I was. Well, half Italian, all Jersey.

"_You ass!_ You arrogant, chauvinist _ass!_ You refuse to accept my money, but you expect me to _…to…service you_? I'm not your _friendly_ hooker! You can 'relieve' your own goddamn stress. Go to hell!"

I flipped him off and stomped out the door into a wall of wide-eyed men. Didn't anyone work around here?

Unable to move forward, I turned back for one parting blow. Carlos was standing stock still, his eyes wide as saucers and his mouth hanging open, an incredulous look on his face. My Jersey heritage suddenly deserted me. I couldn't think of anything strong enough to fling at him. _Crass callous cad_ came to mind, but I swallowed it. I dove into the black sea of men and they parted trying to avoid even a glancing touch from me. I jabbed at the elevator's 'down' button over and over, my breath coming in short gasps.

I felt rather than heard the men melt away from me. When I turned around, Carlos was so close I had to tilt my head back to look him in the eyes…eyes as dark as the deepest night. He was not a happy man and that was putting it mildly.

In a tight, controlled and quiet voice, he uttered, "I would _never_ ask that of you, Babe. I'm appalled you would even think it. I was simply trying to find some non-monetary compromise we could both live with. I see we're at an impasse."

He tucked the white envelope back into my jacket and reached around me hitting the down button.

The doors opened and I rushed on. I turned around and jabbed 'G.' Our eyes met and I swear I saw a flash of something other than his angry glare just before the doors closed. I held myself rigid all the way to the garage. I was confused, still seething with anger, but doubt and regret were creeping in. I'd been incensed when I thought Carlos was asking me to 'prostitute' myself and now I was humiliated for acting like a fool. I felt like crying, but not in front of the damn security cameras.

As I stalked over to my bike, a huge dark form loomed over my back. God, were they all giant silent ninjas around here? My heart was beating a mile a minute and I spun around expecting to see Carlos, but standing there was my dinner buddy, Tank. I nearly collapsed with relief.

Tank reached out his arm to steady me. "Are you okay, Steph?" he asked.

The tears came and I was powerless to stop them. I was usually strong in emotional times like this as long as no one gave me any sympathy, but the minute someone tried to comfort me I lost it. Tank didn't skip a beat and wrapped me in a bear hug until I got myself under control again.

As I straightened up and stepped back, Tank peered into my face and asked the obvious, "What's wrong?"

I sniffled and shrugged. He pressed on, "Did someone here hurt you?" I shook my head no. Tank continued, "Why are you so upset, Steph? And what are you doing here? Did you come to see _me_?"

I leaned against my bike. "Oh, Tank. I've made a mess of things, as usual. I over-reacted and made a fool of myself. I'm a walking disaster who constantly puts her foot in her mouth."

"Steph, you're not making any sense. Why are you here?"

"It's a long story, but I came to see your boss. I owe him money and came to pay him. When he refused to accept it, I thought he was implying an alternate payment plan more carnal than cash. I got mad and lit into him. In so many words, he told me I was wrong about him. I thought I was the offended party, but now I'm thinking I offended him."

"It's pretty hard to offend Ranger. Why do you owe him money? Did he do some security work for you? Talk to me. If he insulted you, I'll kick his butt to kingdom come."

"No, no need. I think I insulted _him_. It was all a big misunderstanding." I stood back up and placed my hand on Tank's forearm. "Oh, and Tank, no one here knows who I am and I'd like to keep it that way. I can't explain why, but please don't let on you know me or my name or my business."

Tank reached out and lifted my chin up until our eyes met. "Steph, are you in some kind of trouble? Because if you need any help, I'm here for you."

I almost started crying again at his kind words and the sincerity in his voice. He was a truly good and gentle man and I was grateful that our shared history of family diabetes had brought us together. Sharing dinner a week ago had sealed our friendship. Food was a great healer. Wait! I looked up at Tank, a huge smile spreading across my face.

"I'm not in any trouble, other than being a fool and being way too impulsive. Tell your boss I'll be back a week from today, same time, same place with my payment. And thanks, Tank, for being such a great friend and listener."

I swung my leg over my bike and started toward the closed gate. I looked back and waved at a confused Tank as he aimed a handheld remote my way. The gate rose and I pedaled into the warm sunshine eager to put my new payment plan into action.


	8. Chapter 8 The Deal Is Sealed

**Chapter 8—The Deal is Sealed**

Tank's POV

_What the fuck just happened?_ I was surprised to see Stephanie get off the elevator in RangeMan's garage and even more surprised when she broke down in tears. And you could have knocked me over with a feather when she said she owed Ranger money. I didn't even know they knew each other. Then she asked me to keep her identity a secret. _What was going on?_

When I first realized it was Stephanie in the garage, my heart soared. _I thought she'd come to see me! _When she told me she was here to see Ranger and she was in tears, it was my anger that soared sky high. What had he done to make her cry?

As soon as the garage gate closed, I took the stairs three at a time and burst through the door on five armed for bear. Ranger was standing in the door of his office waiting for me. I assumed he and the rest of the guys had monitored Steph's and my meeting in the garage. Ranger'd have some hard questions for me, but first I needed to find out what happened to Steph.

My face was anything but blank as I strode toward Ranger. Without a word he turned and went to sit at his desk. I slammed the door behind me and stalked over to him, trying to decide whether to attack or wait for his questions. He beat me to it.

His voice dripped with condescension. "What was that touching little scene in the garage? Do you make a habit of putting your paws all over a woman you've never met? Or _have you_ met her before?"

He locked eyes with me, studying my body language. Good luck with that. We'd undergone the same training to control our emotions and reactions.

If I didn't know better, I'd say Ranger was jealous. In all our years together, I'd never seen him act possessive over any woman. Even a few years ago when he decided it was time for him to 'settle down' and he dated the same woman for several months, there was no sign of jealousy. After they broke up and Bobby started seeing her, he didn't seem to mind at all. Given his lousy history with women, if he was interested in Steph I would not be pleased.

I decided to provoke him and see how he reacted. I puffed out my chest and stood over him. "She and I have been seeing each other for months now and I don't take kindly to you making her cry." There was some truth to that.

For just a split second, Ranger's eyes widened and his nostrils flared. _Oh yeah, he was jealous._ This put a whole new spin on things.

Ranger shot up out of his chair. We stood there, chest to chest, glaring at each other. The look on his face was priceless and I finally relented, feeling pretty proud of myself for getting such a rise out of him. It didn't happen often.

I took a side step and leaned against his desk, letting my grin show. I punched his arm with my fist.

"Naw, man. I was just coming back from a meeting with the LVPD and saw an upset woman in the garage. Not your everyday occurrence around here. When I asked her if I could help, she burst into tears." Ranger took a step back and waited, his face now expressionless.

I still couldn't let him off the hook completely. "I was only offering comfort to a woman in distress. Distress she seemed to be in because of you. We at RangeMan are supposed to be protectors of the weaker sex, not attackers. What did you do to that woman to upset her so much she was in tears?"

I said these last words without any real heat, but was surprised at his reaction. Ranger sat back down and ran his hand through his hair. He was upset with himself, another mood I was not used to seeing him in. The last time I'd seen him second guess himself was when one of our missions went south and we lost two of our team.

The fight went out of him. His voice was quiet and resigned. "What did she say?" He glanced up at me, trying unsuccessfully to maintain a blank face.

I responded, "I need to know what went down here first. How do you know her and what was she doing here?"

Ranger stared at me for a long while, but I didn't back down. He got up and paced, ending up facing the window.

"I met her last week." He smiled, deep in memory. However they met, Steph had got under his skin quickly. I thought back over the past week. Ranger had been obsessed with finding a certain woman. Now I knew who it was.

I took a shot. "The paint on your new suit?"

I thought he was ignoring me, refusing to turn around, but finally he started talking, "She was spray painting over graffiti on a fence off Tropicana." That sounded like Steph, doing volunteer work, probably with Cady's Kids.

"I startled her and she whipped around catching me off guard. That hasn't happened to me…ever. She insisted on paying for the ruined suit. I tried to dissuade her, but she was adamant. 'I always pay my debts' she said. She wouldn't tell me her name, so I gave her my card."

I could hear surprise in his voice. "Today, she brought me an envelope with $500 as her first payment. I found out she sold her car to come up with the money and is now riding a bicycle. _Who does things like that anymore_?" Ranger turned to face me, a look of incredulity on his face.

Actually, I thought that also sounded like Steph, though I thought CadyCakes was well off financially. She probably refused to dip into the profits even if it meant a sacrifice on her part. All profits were put directly into the program's educational and assistance efforts.

"I couldn't accept any money from her, so I was trying to find some other way she could feel like she was 'paying' me back. There's something about her…I can't define it."

Ranger's eyes became unfocused, like he was deep in thought. Then his head snapped back up. "So I brought up the idea of us spending time together, you know…talking…hanging out. She took it wrong and thought I meant sex. I admit it; I'm interested in her. She's an attractive, intriguing woman, but Tank, I truly was only suggesting friendship."

He started pacing again. I'd never seen him upset over a woman before. It was kind of unnerving.

"I don't know how to approach a woman platonically. They're either clients or..." He ran his hand through his hair. "I blew it! I came on too strong. She'll probably never talk to me again. Not only does she think I was hitting on her, but she thinks I was implying she do it for money. Just another guy out for sex, anyway he can get it."

"Well, aren't you? By your own admission, you're interested in her," I pointed out, suppressing my own jealousy.

"_No_, it's more than that. She's…special." Ranger cut his eyes to me, searching for the words to describe what he was feeling. Neither of us ever talked much about our feelings. "Yeah, I'm attracted to her, but like I said, there's something about her. I feel drawn to her in a way I've never felt before. It's not just about sex."

I'd never heard my best friend talk like this, but I was still pissed he made her cry. "I imagine a woman can tell when a man is interested in her, even when she has no interest in him. And knowing you, you probably weren't very subtle. You've never had to learn the art of wooing a woman," I said, slightly bitter.

"_Wooing_?" Ranger shot me a sharp glance. "And what do you mean, no interest in me?"

The truth was, I had no idea if she was interested in Ranger or not. I knew she said she didn't date, but that didn't mean she didn't or couldn't have feelings for someone. Would Steph have been so upset over something Ranger said or thought he implied if she wasn't interested in him? She was a sweet, sensitive woman, but I'd also seen a spark of fire in her when she was riled. I realized how little I actually knew about Stephanie.

And the kicker in all this was my best friend was obviously interested in Stephanie, the woman I'd been mooning over for six months. The woman who'd dashed my dreams just last week when she told me she didn't 'do' relationships.

What was I supposed to do in this situation? I felt obligated to keep Steph's secret, but Ranger was my best friend. Did I let him pursue her only to watch as she shot him down? It'd be a first for Ranger; might do him good.

I took pity on my friend. "Actually, she was upset for wrongfully accusing you. She realized she'd over reacted." A look of relief flashed across Ranger's face.

"She also said to tell you she'd be back in a week at the same time she came today to make a payment. I assume you know what that means?"

"Hell no, but I'm happy to hear she doesn't hate me and I have another chance with her."

I couldn't help feeling a little sorry for myself, but I was even sorrier for Ranger. His heart was just opening to a woman whose heart had been closed by pain years ago.

_**One week later**_

Stephanie's POV

I rode up to the lobby door and got off my bike. A muscular man dressed all in black was sitting at the reception desk. When he saw me struggling to open the door and lead my bike in, he rushed over to help.

"You work for RangeMan, don't you?" I asked as the big man reached for the thermal carriers I'd just unstrapped from the saddlebags on my bicycle.

"Yes, ma'am," he replied. "I'm Woody."

"Whoa, Woody, don't ever call me _ma'am_ again,' I told him, grinning broadly to take the sting out of my words.

"Well, uh…the g…g…guys called you T…T…Tiger last week, but that seemed…a might f…f…forward," he stuttered.

"Tiger is much preferable to ma'am. So the guys were talking about me?" I asked.

He immediately looked wary. "Well, yeah, ma'…T…Tiger. No one's ever snuck past the g…g…gate or made it to the f…f…fifth floor undetected before. You're the f…f…first. Ranger made us all watch your video…riding in on your bike as sssmooth as sssilk behind Cal. He had us change the t…t…timing on the g…g…gate and new pro…procedures are in p…p…place for monitoring all ingress and egress from the building." I wondered if Woody always stuttered or if I made him particularly nervous.

My eyes got big. "Gosh, I didn't mean to cause any problems for anyone. I hope nobody got in trouble over it."

"Ranger's a f…f…firm believer in learning from mistakes, so th…th…this week has b…b…been pretty intense," Woody admitted.

"I'm so sorry you guys had to suffer the consequences of my blunder. Maybe I can make it up to you a little," I said. "Do you like empanadas?"

"Can't sssay I know what they are, b…but whatever's in these b...bags sure sssmells good," he said, breathing in the aromas.

I motioned for him to place the bags on the desk. Opening up one of them, I took out a pillow of flaky dough filled with chunks of beef and vegetables in a thick smoky gravy. I'd made them this morning from one of Krishna's favorite recipes and baked them just before coming to RangeMan.

"Try this." I handed Woody the still warm empanada.

After his first bite, Woody's eyes closed and a low moan emanated from his throat.

"I take that as your personal stamp of approval, Woody," I chuckled.

"Most definitely," he took another bite and _mmm'd_ as he chewed.

With a loud bang, the stair door opened behind us and as we turned, Carlos came rushing out and crossed the lobby to us.

He wasn't out of breath, but I had the impression he'd raced down those stairs two or three at a time. He had his killer smile on.

"Babe, I see you're still full of surprises," he greeted me with his hand outstretched. As I reached to shake his hand, he pulled mine to his lips. He kissed the back of my hand and his beautiful brown eyes gazed at me through long black eyelashes any woman would kill for.

_Oh crap!_ This was only the third time I'd seen him, but I was already under his spell. As his lips caressed the back of my hand for a second time, I felt a warmth spread between my thighs. I was going to have to remember to bring a spare pair of panties whenever I came here.

My uncontrollable reaction didn't bode well for me maintaining my distance from this mocha-skinned, hard-bodied Adonis. If it wasn't for this damn debt thing, I'd be so outta here. But I could do this…I just needed a little firm self-discipline. And find a way to get the upper hand. I had planned to apologize for my outburst last week, but decided against it.

"You come bearing gifts?" he queried.

I pulled my hand back from his and searched my bags. Meeting Carlos' brown eyes, I taunted, "Do you trust me, Carlos?"

He didn't answer immediately; unlike me, he was not an impulsive man. As we stared at each other, I saw his pupils dilate making his eyes appear black. His breathing also sped up a fraction. I knew I was playing with fire, I just didn't know which of us would combust first. His head moved a fraction down and then back up. I took that for a 'yes.'

"Close your eyes and open your mouth," I ordered. This time he complied without hesitation.

I held the chicken empanada to his lips and he took a bite. His eyes shot open as he chewed and then he wrapped his hand around mine bringing the rest of the flaky pocket to his mouth. We stood there like that while he finished the savory treat. His last act was to suck my gravy-smeared fingers into his mouth. Another rush of warmth and I knew my panties were definitely ruined. I no longer had the upper hand. If I thought I was a control freak, Carlos owned the entire franchise.

Meanwhile, Woody was standing a few feet away watching this little interplay. He cleared his throat and started shuffling papers, clearly ill at ease. He wasn't the only one.

"Babe, that was delicious. Don't tell my Abuelita, but that empanada was better than hers. Did you make it yourself?"

"Yes, I did, and thank you for the generous compliment. I promise not to snitch to your grandmother. I made enough to feed the hungry mob upstairs. I think you'll appreciate the changes to the ingredient list. These empanadas are quite a bit healthier than the usual recipe, plus I baked them instead of frying them."

I reclosed the bags, but not before handing Woody a couple more of the savory pies. I got an ear-splitting smile in return.

I turned back to Carlos. "If you agree, I'd like to bring in a healthy lunch for you and your employees once a week instead of a cash payment. Would this compromise 'suit' you?" I asked, throwing in a little pun.

Carlos flashed me another killer smile and proceeded to gather up the various bags and containers I'd brought with me.

"Babe, that's a perfect compromise and it 'suits' me just fine." He grinned, motioning me toward the elevator.

We rode up to the fifth floor in silence, me facing forward toward the elevator doors and Carlos staring at me. When the doors opened we were noisily greeted by a dozen black-clad men all clamoring for a taste of whatever had sent Woody and Ranger into their relative throes of ecstasy. I'd forgotten the entire building was filled with cameras. Nothing happened here that wasn't monitored through the control room.

Laughing at the eagerness of the 'boys,' I went into my Mom mode and got them all settled into the conference room. I quickly passed out the smoky beef empanadas before a riot broke out. I'd seen them inhale several buckets of fried chicken in minutes. I asked Carlos for a dozen bottles of water and took out wedges of lemon to add to each bottle, explaining it would 'cleanse' their palate between the different types of pastry.

After they'd consumed several apiece of the beef pies, I passed out the vegetable empanadas flavored with ginger and peppers. Even Hal, who I learned never ate anything new or spicy, was enthusiastically eating everything put before him. Next were the pillows of garlicky chicken and mushrooms. I'd also included a crudité tray of raw vegetables with several rich tasting dipping sauces. And finally, I offered the guys a couple of sweet pastries filled with apples and berries in their natural juices. The mixed berry were Cady's favorite.

Tank had been silent throughout lunch and only allowed our eyes to meet once when he gave me a little smile of welcome. I appreciated his discretion at keeping my secret. As I passed his chair, I lightly brushed my hand over his shoulders in acknowledgement.

Carlos' eagle eye didn't miss the touch. His eyebrow shot up into a V. So I made a point, as I walked around the room, of making physical contact with each man sitting at the large conference table, whether it was a light pat on the back or a touch to the forearm. And I couldn't resist fluffing Lester's spikes.

The light contact I made with each man was nothing more than I did with the diner patrons at Cady's, but these men had noticeable reactions. They were obviously unused to being touched like that. I knew most of them were ex-military, but it didn't explain their flinching from a simple friendly touch. I also noticed several of the men wouldn't make eye contact with me.

My heart ached when I realized how closed off some of them were. My internal defenses were made of chicken wire compared to their heavily armored walls. I had my work cut out for me and I realized it involved more than just providing a healthy lunch or two.

As the men filed out, they let me know how much they appreciated the good food and they couldn't wait to see and taste what I brought next week. I even got a peck on the cheek from Lester. He was every bit the player Tank said he was. That left just Carlos and me.

"Babe, the food was wonderful and the guys really enjoyed themselves. Thank you for doing this. Since you insist on paying me in some form for my suit, this is one I can accept. However, I insist on reimbursing you for the cost of the food. The time, effort and obvious skill you put into preparing it all is more than enough payment."

I smiled inwardly at his attempt to let me off the hook. "While I appreciate the value you place on my time, the debt will be paid off much sooner if we factor in both the cost of the food and the intrinsic value of my minor skills as a chef."

"I'm concerned that you made a major change to your life to raise the money for this 'debt.' I'm talking about the bicycle, Babe. You shouldn't have to make that kind of sacrifice. If I pay for the food, then you're only out your time. You could afford a car again. I'd feel a lot better if you'd agree to this. Better yet, let me provide you with a car. RangeMan has a fleet of vehicles that we rotate through regularly. It would be a used vehicle, but we keep them in excellent condition."

He was a piece of work. _A car?_ He didn't even know me. "Carlos, for a smart man you seem to be missing the whole point of this 'debt' thing. For me to pay you what I owe requires some 'sacrifice' on my part. If I allow you to pay me or provide me the use of a car it kind of negates the whole payment thing, doesn't it?"

I couldn't quite read his face, but he didn't seem pleased. _Score one for me._

"It's your call, though I don't mind if this takes a while longer. I know the guys would love to have you make them lunch as often as you could." Carlos raised an eyebrow asking me a question nonverbally. A quick shake of my head gave him his answer.

"I had to try. If this meal had been catered by a professional company, I'm guessing it would have run $30 a person for the quality and amount you served," he began.

I interrupted him, "More like $15 or $20."

I could see Carlos was going to fight me on this. "Babe." When he called me that, one corner of his mouth turned up giving him a mischievous look so different from his blank face expression. I was beginning to like my new nickname.

"It's clear you use only the best ingredients and the personal service you're providing should be factored in. Let's compromise and call it $25 per person."

"I'll agree to $20," I relented.

Carlos grinned. "You realize this is backward? You should be arguing for more money, not less."

"I'm trying to keep this fair, and you're trying to be overly generous. I appreciate your efforts and it's a wonderful quality, Carlos. Thank you. But this is business and I won't take advantage of your generosity. $20 times 13 people is $260 per week, so we're talking what…40 weeks to pay for a new Brioni suit?"

I was beginning to love it when I could surprise him. It was nice to see an unexpected emotion on his face. At my last words, he closed his eyes and actually looked ill at ease. I guess he was embarrassed about paying that much for one suit. While he looked great in anything and was always well groomed, I didn't picture him as the metrosexual type, overly concerned about his appearance or what he wore.

He opened his eyes and there was a shrewd look in them. "I'll agree to the 40 weeks, but only if I reimburse you for the cost of the food. That's non-negotiable, Babe. Remember, this is a compromise proposition. We both have to try to meet the other's needs."

"It seems like your 'need' is to drop the whole thing," I answered, rolling my eyes. He just sat there staring at me. I looked at my watch. If I didn't leave immediately, I'd be late in relieving Mary Lou so she could pick up her grandkids from school. Thursdays were her day to play grandmother.

I blew out a big breath. "Boy, you drive a hard bargain. I have a prior obligation and need to leave. I don't have time to argue this with you anymore, so okay. You've got a deal."

We shook hands and a tingling sensation traveled up my arm and throughout my body. God, the chemistry between us was so strong I knew I couldn't resist it if we spent much time in close physical proximity. And I'd just committed to spending my lunch hour one day a week for nine months with this irresistible man. I was so screwed!


	9. Chapter 9 The Tailed Wags The Dog

**Chapter 9—The Tailed Wags the Dog**

Ranger's POV

True to her word, my curly-haired wonder showed up right on time today. I was expecting another battle over money, but she surprised me with a great compromise. Healthy homemade meals for my men and me. It was perfect. And in the deal I negotiated I got nearly everything I wanted. By deciding on the length of time first and then getting her to agree to let me pay the actual cost of the food meant she wasn't out any money and I got to see her every week for the next 40 weeks.

After just one day, I realized how amazing she was. I'd never met a woman who could walk into a room with that many of my men and not show some fear or trepidation. She, on the other hand, managed to put them at their ease treating them all like family.

After serving in the Rangers for nearly ten years and then working covert ops periodically for fifteen years most of us were pretty messed up. We hadn't lived a typical life in the military or even in some intelligence agency like the CIA. The missions we'd been tasked with were dangerous and loathsome assignments, many beyond human imagination. Over the years, each of us had received multiple scars, both physical and emotional.

It's one thing to serve a tour of duty and then return to civilian life permanently. That gives one time to adjust and come to terms with the horrors of what was done and witnessed. But when you're repeatedly pulled from your 'normal' civilian life and put in those same vile situations for days, weeks or months at a time, only to return to your normal life waiting for the next call to serve, there's no time to adjust or heal.

Most of us had been unable to sustain long-term attachments with women and our relationships with our families were strained. Some of the men weren't comfortable around people and tended to avoid all social situations. Others managed to hide their discomfort and put on a good front. But none of us could maintain that act for long and we retreated within ourselves a good deal of the time. RangeMan had been a godsend for all of us, providing rewarding work, a substantial income and understanding friends.

And as much as we wanted to forget about all the FUBAR missions we'd endured, the military wouldn't let us. We'd been part of a long-term government 'study' on post-traumatic stress disorder since we left the Rangers. Our annual 'check-up' was due at the end of the year. The psychologist working our case was intrigued by the severity of our 'emotional trauma' and our inimitable 'adaptations' that allowed us to function in the real world. We were unique in that we'd stayed together after our time in service and we continued to employ younger men fresh out of the Rangers.

Whenever we hired a new person, there was always a time of adjustment for everyone. We were pretty hard on newcomers. Most couldn't cut it and left within a few months. I hadn't hired a woman in years for many reasons, mainly that it proved too disruptive.

The few women I'd managed to date for any length of time had hated being around my men saying they felt intimidated and unsafe. I wondered if they felt the same about me.

I was intrigued by 'Babe' from the first moment I saw her, but now after observing her interactions with my friends and colleagues, I was more than impressed. I was in awe. And more determined than ever to get her to open up to me. First off, I wish she'd tell me her name and why she was so adamant about keeping it a secret. I was a man who knew something about secrets.

Stephanie's POV

After repacking the empty bags and strapping them to my bicycle, I started for home. Halfway down the block, I noticed the front wheel seemed to be rubbing against the fender. I stopped and examined it thinking I must have bent it at some time, but it looked fine. Running my fingers up under the fender to feel for dents I came in contact with a small rectangular object. With a slight tug, it came away in my hand. It was made of hard black plastic, and it had a magnet and a green blinking light. It was a tracker or trackstick to be exact.

_Of all the nerve_. Someone at RangeMan was trying to find out where I was going, my home address. I spun around looking for a 'tail,' but saw no one. I knew with today's GPS and wireless technology, they didn't have to physically 'tail' me, they could simply 'follow' me on their computers. I guess their jobs as security specialists made them feel like they could invade anyone's privacy. I would have to have a serious talk with Mr. Mañoso. _But for now, what to do?_

I heard a rumbling behind me and turned to see a city street sweeper coming my way. _Perfect!_ I pulled my bike up on the sidewalk and as the vehicle passed I slapped the tracker on the lower back side where there was a thick black stripe of paint. The tracker blended in perfectly unless you were up close. Let those privacy-invading dogs tail a slow moving city truck all afternoon.

With a satisfied grin, I pushed my bike back into the now cleanly swept lane and leisurely pedaled home. Even the hundred degree August heat didn't bother me.

Lester's POV

Knowing 'Tiger' would be down soon, I finished securing the trackstick to the bike's fender and then raced up the stairs. I knew it wasn't the most ethical thing to do, but I would only use it to find out her address so I could find out what her name was.

I couldn't figure out any reason why she'd withhold her name from us. She seemed to be a very open and friendly person, not someone guarding her privacy. I was fascinated with her and I knew I wasn't the only one. I didn't plan on doing anything with the information, but I just had to find out. Ranger was constantly telling me my curiosity would get me into big trouble one of these days. Hopefully, not today.

When I got to five, I saw she'd already packed up the remnants from lunch and left. That was cutting it close. I slipped into the bathroom until everybody returned to their stations. Wouldn't do to have someone walk by my cubicle and see the tracking screen on my computer. We weren't currently tracking anyone and I didn't want to have to answer any questions.

By the time I pulled up her signal on my computer, she was already turning onto Tropicana. I watched as the signal indicated she turned onto the next side street, which I knew was a residential area. I had pencil and paper ready to write down her address. But after thirty minutes of watching the signal go down one lane after another and then reverse itself and travel back down the same streets the opposite way, I knew something was off.

I grabbed my laptop and went down to the garage. Positioning the computer on the passenger seat, I located where the signal currently was and headed out the gate toward it. It took me about ten minutes to find it. _Shit!_

She'd outmaneuvered me. I'd been tracking a goddamn street sweeper. I waved down the driver and asked him to stop for a minute. I quickly found the trackstick attached toward the back of the vehicle. She'd even tried to hide it on black paint. Clever girl! And I was in trouble.

Ranger wouldn't like me interfering with his pursuit of this interesting woman. And he was definitely pursuing her, like one of his covert operations. I'd watched him at lunch today. I don't think his eyes ever left her, though I don't think she was aware of his scrutiny. Like all of us, Ranger had a lot of experience in hiding his actions, his emotions, even where he was looking. I also knew he'd been spending a lot of time himself trying to find out who she was.

But the fact that I tracked her without her…or his…permission and _failed_ would mean having Ranger as my sparring partner for a week at least. Not my favorite way to workout.

None of us would see 'Tiger' again until next week. Maybe if I waited for her outside the building and apologized in my most charming endearing way and pleaded my case for this to remain between the two of us, Ranger would never have to know. It was my only course of action to avoid a week of bruised ribs.


	10. Chapter 10 Panic's No Picnic

**Chapter 10—Panic's No Picnic**

Stephanie's POV

I was beginning to look forward to Thursdays at RangeMan's. For my second 'payment,' I'd decided to make souvlaki, roasted potatoes and a Greek salad. And for dessert, baklava, which wasn't a low calorie sweet, but due to its richness most people could only eat a small piece or two. And the honey in it contained several vitamins and minerals, my personal justification for using honey instead of regular sugar. I packed up this week's lunch and rode my bike over to the RangeMan offices.

Paying off my debt to Carlos was important to me, but it was taking a back seat to my interest in his unusual employees. All the men were really big guys and they seemed to have adopted a 'tough guy' persona. They rarely smiled or talked and eye contact with any of them was a fleeting thing. The guys seemed to function well on the surface, but after spending just a little time with them it was obvious they were extremely uncomfortable even with a casual touch from me. Tank and Lester were the exceptions. The fact that most of the men seemed to be in their late forties and none wore a wedding band was unusual at best.

But I could imagine that anyone on the receiving end of the continual flinching and pulling back every time they touched or hugged one of these big quiet men would soon stop trying to get close. The guys' reactions would be perceived as rejection, even if no words were ever spoken. It wouldn't matter if it were their wife or girlfriend, mother or sister, or a child. Eventually, their loved ones would just leave the men alone.

Which was exactly what these men didn't need. All of us needed, even craved, some form of human touch. I wasn't referring to sex…I meant simple human contact…a hug, a kiss, a shoulder squeeze. My heart went out to these men who'd sacrificed so much for our country and were continuing to pay a hefty price for their service.

When I pedaled up the street to RangeMan on Thursday, Lester moved out from the side of a nearby building to meet me. As he approached, he dangled a small black object in front of him. My trackstick! Well, actually, it was his trackstick. I never wanted to see it again.

So now I knew the identity of my spy. It bode well for him that he didn't try to deceive me, but I was still angry that he tried to find out more about me in this underhanded manner.

I put the kickstand down on the bike and leaned against it, arms crossed over my chest. Keeping my face blank, I stared him down. I used to call it my Burg death glare, from the good ole days.

Lester hesitated a moment then straightened up and walked toward me, a sheepish smile on his face and his head tucked down a bit. He knew how adorable he looked. I stayed resolute.

He stopped a few feet from me and gave me his most winning smile. My glare didn't waver. Lester dragged the trackstick across his throat giving a silent but dramatic performance of slicing his neck open. I just continued to glare at him. He finally broke down.

"I crossed the line. I'm sorry, Tiger. My curiosity got the better of me and I just had to try to find out your name. What gave it away?" Lester tried to meet my angry stare, but quickly looked down at his feet.

"You want to know how I found the tracker, Lester? Why, so you can slip it by me undetected the next time?" I huffed.

"No…no…I learned my lesson. No more tracking, no more subterfuge. Forgive me…please?" he begged.

He was just too cute to refuse. Like the little mischievous boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Well, not _this_ cookie jar.

"Invading my privacy like that really upset me. You hurt me, Lester." He dropped his head, but not before I saw the remorse in his face…no blank expression, no false smile.

"I'm sorry, Tiger, really sorry. It was stupid and thoughtless." He looked genuinely repentant.

I was still a little angry, though not as much as before. Lester Santos was awfully endearing. I'd never tell him this, but he made me think of my little brother. No, I don't have a little brother, but if I did, it would be Lester. And I would forgive my little brother anything.

I had to know. "Who else was involved in this little covert operation?"

He was quick to take full blame. "No one else. It was just me. I'm way too curious and impulsive for my own good. I'm really...really...sorry, Tiger." He sounded just like me. Too curious and too impulsive. And I wouldn't change a thing about him.

Again, I questioned myself why I was keeping my name a secret from these guys. It's not like I had anything to hide. My life was an open book. I think my intense attraction to Carlos really scared me and I felt the need to distance myself from him and then it just snowballed. I couldn't tell Lester or heaven forbid, Carlos, the real reason. It sounded so lame, so I guess I'd have to keep up the act. Boy, were they going to be disappointed when they found out how dull and boring their 'mystery' woman really was.

"Would knowing my real name make a difference in how you treat me or think of me?" I couldn't help asking.

Lester frowned, "Of course not." Then he grinned, "Unless your name was something like Esmerelda or Gertrude."

I punched him in the arm. "Ow," I cried, shaking my hurting hand. He was solid as a rock. He just kept grinning.

"So, calling me Tiger isn't that big a hardship?"

"Not in the slightest. It suits you." He stood before me, hands at his side, face unmasked…waiting.

I caved. "Well then, you're forgiven. But please, respect my right to privacy from now on."

He quickly vowed never to do anything like that again and then he asked, "This will stay just between you and me, won't it?"

I dropped my head at the thought of more secrets. Lester bent down so he could look into my eyes with his big puppy dog ones, silently pleading with me.

"Yeah, alright. But you owe me…a big one," I bargained. You never knew when you might need the services of a good-looking ex-Army Ranger/security specialist.

He was so relieved he wrapped his arms around my waist and swung me in a circle, my feet flying out from under me. Laughing, I slapped his shoulder until he returned me to a standing position. This was one RangeMan who wasn't shy about touching women.

We walked the few yards to RangeMan and he helped me unload today's lunch, trying to get me to reveal what I'd made. He carried the bags while I wheeled my bicycle into the lobby.

Woody was on duty again and this time I was prepared. I took out a small brown paper sack packed with several skewers of the marinated grilled lamb, thick pita bread, a serving of salad and sauce, and two triangles of baklava.

I handed Woody the bag and at the same time placed my other hand on his upper arm. "Since you're stuck down here, I thought you might appreciate a snack, Woody." He flinched at my touch, and when I didn't pull back he stiffened up and look down at his feet. But he didn't step away from me.

"Thank you, ma'…T…Tiger," he smiled. He didn't hesitate to peek inside the bag and inhale deeply. "Sssmells delicious. Th…thanks for th…thinking of me."

"You're unforgettable, Woody." I gave his arm one last squeeze before Lester whisked me away.

Lester impatiently grabbed the bags I'd brought and guided me over to the elevator and we entered. He held the button for a minute and asked, "Are you really okay with all of us calling you Tiger?"

"Actually, I rather like having a nickname. So many of you only go by a nickname, it makes me feel a part of your team."

Lester grinned and hit five and we continued up to face the hungry crowd. As soon as we stepped off the elevator, Carlos exited his office and greeted me with a big smile and a warm handshake. Well, 'shake' isn't the right term, more like he held my hand for an extended period of time while he led me toward the conference/lunch room.

"Babe, you look beautiful today. The guys have been watching the clock for the last hour speculating on what you made this time."

"I hope you approve. I brought fast food," I said.

Carlos raised an eyebrow, which arched into an upside down V. I'd never been able to do that. Both my eyebrows just shoot up and I look like a surprised fool.

"Do you like Greek street food? I made souvlaki today."

I watched as Lester shoved the other guys away while he unpacked the bags I'd brought. The thermal containers held dozens of skewers of grilled chunks of spiced marinated lamb, still hot from the grill.

Tank was standing along the wall waiting with the rest of the guys. "Is 'sooflawki' like a gyro?" he asked.

So, he knew his Greek food. I explained, "Similar, but instead of ground meat it's in kebab form. You use a thick slice of pita bread to wrap around the meat and then add tomatoes, onions and cucumbers and top it all off with tzatziki sauce." Tank rubbed his hands in anticipation.

I heard pleasurable sounding groans as the lids came off everything and the room filled with aromas of grilled lamb, rosemary, oregano and tart lemony yogurt sauce. The guys hurriedly built their sandwiches and loaded up their plates with potatoes and salad. Soon everyone was quiet, their mouths filled with an explosion of Mediterranean flavors.

"Babe, I don't know how you do it, but this tastes just like the food you'd find on the streets of Athens. It's delicious. The lamb is succulent and spiced just right and the salad is simple yet substantial with the olives and feta. I could eat this everyday." Carlos was on his second sandwich, and even his men were surprised at their normally conservative boss' enthusiasm and quantity of food he packed away.

Several of the men echoed Carlos' compliments and said it was like an indoor picnic, but with no ants and much better food. When Hal let out a contented burp, the guys laughed and joked that it was proof of the food's excellence. I picked up the pan of baklava and went round the table serving each man the nutty flaky triangles dripping with honey.

The guys stayed at the table a lot longer this time as I did my best to keep them talking and joking while they ate their dessert. The guys started telling 'war' stories about each other's latest exploits and blunders. A few of the guys hadn't spoken at all during lunch and while they laughed and seemed to be part of the conversation they were pushed back from the table and sat with arms crossed over their chiseled chests.

I walked around the room, purposely leaning on broad shoulders and whispering in ears funny comments about the other guys' stories…anything to let the men get used to my close proximity and touch. I didn't get as many body flinches this time, but two of the guys I 'leaned' on were trembling before I stood up and moved on to the next man. They didn't seem shy as much as withdrawn and even repressed. There were times I felt like crying, realizing how shut down some of them were. It was as if I could feel their pain.

Then several of the guys' phones went off and they dashed out the door, yelling their thanks to me as they ran. Lester said something about a client's alarm going off before he raced out. And I'd never seen Tank move so fast. For as big as he was, he was also agile and quick. Definitely someone I wouldn't want coming after me in a dark alley.

When the rest of the guys had all returned to their stations and the lunch mess was cleaned up, Carlos asked me to stay for a while longer. I sat across the table from him.

"You prepared today's meal expertly, Babe. You must have had some formal training?" he speculated.

I shook my head no. "Nothing formal. In fact, for the first half of my life my cooking abilities were so bad, I could burn water. The extent of my 'chef' skills was making a peanut butter and olive sandwich."

He grimaced at that food combo. "What changed? What made you want to learn how to cook?"

A chill ran through me when he asked the last question. This was getting too close to the pain that still constricted my heart, pain that could shut out all other emotion. I started shaking and gulping air. I hadn't had a reaction like this in years, but all of a sudden I started to hyperventilate. I tried to take deeper breaths, but it felt like my lungs were collapsing and I panicked.

Carlos raced around the table and kneeled in front of me rubbing my arms and telling me to take deep breaths. He tried to calm me, but I just couldn't catch my breath. I heard him call for someone to get 'Bobby.'

A tall muscular black man rushed into the room and Carlos spoke urgently with him. I saw a dark face swimming in front of me and then the face fired questions at me. I couldn't concentrate and felt like I was suffocating. The man, I guess it was Bobby, held a brown paper sack to my mouth and in a calm but firm voice instructed me to take long slow breaths. It was a struggle, but soon I was breathing deeper and the panic subsided. The room had filled with black-clad muscular men, all staring at me, all looking worried.

When Bobby finally took the bag away I was breathing normally, but felt awful. I was lightheaded and nauseous. I hadn't had a panic attack in over fifteen years. Why now? I thought about the spectacle I'd just made of myself and wanted to go home and crawl under the covers.

Instead, I tried to make light of it and in a deep voice intoned, "_And that concludes today's test of the Emergency Preparedness Program. __If this had been an actual emergency, you would have been instructed where to tune in your area for news and official information_."

I had no idea where that silly bit came from, but I was extremely embarrassed by the whole thing. I stood, picked up my bags and tried to walk out of the room. I was desperate to get out of there so I could have my mental breakdown in peace.

Both Bobby and Ranger gently took my bags from me and eased me back into a chair. Someone handed me a bottle of water. Carlos then introduced Bobby to me. "Babe, this is Bobby Brown. He's our resident doctor. Before you go, let him check you over, please? Bobby, this is…Babe. She's the one who made those empanadas you liked so much last week."

Oh my God, they had a doctor on staff? The security work they did must be really dangerous. That would explain why I felt like I was walking amidst a SWAT team whenever I came here. I bet he was used to treating gunshot wounds and stabbings, not panicky women who couldn't control themselves. This was getting more embarrassing by the minute. I needed to get out of here and fast.

"It's nice to meet you, Dr. Brown. Thank you for getting my little 'episode' under control. I'm alright now. There's no need for you to check me over. Nothing like a little heavy breathing to get the blood pumping." I tried to smile, but it came out more as a grimace.

"Please, I'm Bobby. Dr. Brown is a little formal for this crowd. I'd feel better if you sat still a while longer and drank some water. And surely, there's something else I can call you besides _Babe_?" What was this obsession with all them having to know my real name? Inside, I still felt panicky and I was rapidly losing my focus.

"Shirley? I like that name, or call me Tiger like the rest of the guys do. Bobby, again thank you for your doctoring. Carlos, just add his fee to my bill. The way I'm going, I might as well set up a permanent kitchen at RangeMan and become your indentured short order cook." I knew I was rambling. I took several sips of water and grinned lopsidedly at the roomful of now blank-faced men. Could it get any worse?

This time when I stood up, I shot both men a stern look challenging them to stop me again. I could tell they wanted to say something, but I gave them as fierce a look as I could and they backed off. Before I could pick up the bags, Carlos took them and motioned me out the door. I gave a little finger wave to the guys still staring at me and continued on to the elevator.

When we were alone in that very tiny moving metal box…now I was getting claustrophobic, a new one for me…I touched Carlos' arm and apologized for my disruption. He immediately placed his free hand over mine, "Babe, there's no need to apologize. I'm sorry if anything I said triggered that. I was worried about you."

"You didn't do or say anything wrong." I removed my hand from his and tried to explain. "I went through a bad time several years ago and had a few panic attacks. I haven't had one in years. I'm fine now. It just caught me unaware. And please, thank Bobby again for me. He has a nice chairside manner." I gave him a small smile, then the door opened and I nearly ran out into the lobby.

Carlos followed me to my bicycle. "Let me drive you home. You shouldn't try to ride a bike right now in all this traffic."

"There's no need for that. Look," I said and held out my hand parallel to the ground. "See, no shakes, steady as a rock. I'm fine, Carlos. I appreciate your concern, but I know my limits. I'll see you next Thursday."

I strapped my bags onto my bike, swung my leg over the bar and stopped at the front door. Reluctantly, Carlos opened it and I rode out. I didn't look back. The tears started to fall before I'd pedaled halfway down the block. I turned off the main street into an alley and leaned against a fence, letting the crying jag overtake me.

Grief's a funny thing. You think things are getting better and it stops consuming your every waking moment and then BANG! It comes back as fresh and clear as if it were yesterday.


	11. Chapter 11 Hear Me Roar

**Chapter 11—Hear Me Roar**

Ranger's POV

Bobby sat across from me in my office. We'd been talking about what just happened.

"It seemed like a classic panic attack. Do you have any idea what started it?" he asked.

I shook my head. "We were talking about the food she'd brought for today's lunch…how great it was. She said she used to be terrible at cooking and I asked her what made her want to learn how to cook. She got real still and the look in her eyes was fixed and staring and then she started breathing fast."

"Interesting. She doesn't seem to mind cooking or getting compliments about it. She was the one who offered to bring in the meals, wasn't she? So the act of cooking isn't a trigger. But the reason she learned to cook in the first place may be the key factor. Your question may have got her thinking about it and it just overwhelmed her."

"So, why does a woman who can't cook suddenly decide to learn?" I asked, thinking out loud.

Bobby thought a minute. "Maybe she got married and her husband demanded she cook his meals? Maybe a child came onto the scene and spurred her maternal instincts? Maybe it was a dare? Who knows?"

"I would think it would be something more personal, more pressing for it to have affected her so much. She makes a point of cooking healthy meals. Low fat, low salt, lots of natural, fresh, unprocessed ingredients. Maybe someone close to her was ill, maybe cancer, heart problems…what else requires a special diet?"

"Diabetes, Celiac's disease, Krohn's disease, there's lots of them, Ranger." Bobby stared at me. "You really like this woman, don't you?"

I blew out some air. "We've been together too long, Brown. I can't hide anything from you."

I looked down at my hands and then gazed out the window. "I don't know what it is about her, but when I'm around her, things are different. I'm different. _I_ _feel more_. I want to know everything about her. I want to spend time with her, but she holds me at a distance. She won't even tell me her name. She's hiding something or protecting herself or someone else."

"So, she doesn't want anyone to know anything about her and something about her learning to cook gives her panic attacks." Bobby started speculating, "Maybe she has a controlling husband who beats her when she ruins a meal, maybe she's a privacy fanatic, maybe she's a little nutso."

My eyes shot up at that callous statement.

Bobby just shrugged. "Ranger, if she doesn't want to tell you about herself, that's her business. My advice is don't force it. You've got nine months to gain her trust, don't you? If she means that much to you, give her time. Respect her privacy. Don't pry. Once she feels comfortable, she'll open up."

Bobby was right. I needed to gain her trust. Tracking her information down without her permission wasn't a good way to start. Maybe she'd been hurt by someone and had erected walls to keep it from happening again. I knew about erecting walls; I'd started building mine when I was a teenager. She wasn't shy or unfeeling. I could see the easy, relaxed and caring way she treated all my men. And she wasn't fearful of me. If I was reading her right, she was attracted to me as much as I was to her. She just wouldn't let me in…yet.

I decided to stop trying to find out more about her and wait for her to come to me. I wasn't used to going slow with anyone, especially women. I wouldn't have backed off like this when I was younger. Hopefully, I'd gained a little wisdom over the years. Now it was time to learn a new skill. One of patience!

Tank's POV

Cal told Lester and me about Tiger's (Steph's) break down when we got back to the office that afternoon. I debated about going to see her, but Cal said she'd been really embarrassed by it. I talked to Bobby, but all he'd say was she had a panic attack and had recovered quickly.

It was probably good I had to go out of town for a few weeks to do the annual evaluations for the west coast offices and check on the new security installations at the Nordstrom stores. Normally, Ranger did this, but he told me someone else needed to be up on all the employees besides him. Yeah, he just couldn't stand to miss Steph's Thursday lunches. He had it bad. And it was easier for me not being around him when he was obsessing over Stephanie.

I was a little worried about Lester. He'd sustained a severe beating the same day Steph had her panic attack. He'd been leaving his favorite sports bar late that Thursday night after watching a game and having a few beers when he was tasered from the back. Someone had really pounded him while he was incapacitated. He never got a look at the guy. Lester swore he hadn't angered anyone in the bar and he wasn't robbed, so we had no motive. Lester was still sporting a nasty looking black eye and cut lip.

With me being out of town it was several weeks before I saw Steph again. I stopped by CadyCakes with a cupcake order for Ram's birthday. Maybe I could find out what caused her panic attack.

I picked a day and time I knew were Steph's regular hours and entered the bakery side, jingling the little bell attached to the front door. Steph came out from the kitchen smiling and joking with someone behind her. When I saw who it was I think I actually stopped breathing for a few moments.

A goddess walked out behind Stephanie. She was tall, nearly six feet, and regal. She had flawless ebony skin and her hair framed her beautiful face like a shining black cloud. Everything about her was strong and confident. She wasn't one of those skinny women who looked like they'd break if you made love to them the way a woman was meant to be loved. She was a substantial woman. An ebony goddess!

"Tank!" Steph greeted me, "It's wonderful to see you. I've missed you the past few weeks and you missed several of my lunches. We 'toured' Italy, India and Japan through food. Did you enjoy your trip?" I tried to focus on Steph and what she was saying, but my eyes and brain kept wandering to the beautiful woman piling cupcakes into the display case.

I guess Steph noticed I was distracted because she stopped asking me questions and introduced me to the other woman dominating the room and my attention.

"Tank, I'd like to introduce you to Krishna Washington, the chef behind CadyCakes' success. She was also my college roommate and co-conspirator in many a college prank. Krishna, this is Tank Sherman, a good friend of mine and a connoisseur of your culinary creations."

"Tank? That's an interesting name, though it definitely suits you," Krishna commented as she looked me up and down. She had a rich, deep, but decidedly feminine voice.

I finally found my voice. "I got it when I was in the Army and it just stuck. I really like your name. It suits you as well. Like a goddess," I blurted out. Embarrassed, I tried to redeem my cool, calm and collected self, "It's my pleasure to meet the creative genius who makes these delicious cupcakes, Krishna. They're always a hit with the men at work."

"So you're the guy who ordered all those naughty cupcakes? We don't get much call at CadyCakes for such X-rated treats. It made my day to make something besides kiddie or wedding cupcakes." She sighed and then shot me a quizzical look. "I hope the penis cupcake wasn't for you?" she quipped, looking at me sideways.

I felt my face get hot. "No…no…I'm a boobie man myself and a booty man. My favorite cupcake was the _sister_ on the Army tank," I said.

"Oh yeah. I modeled her after myself. I always wanted to ride a _big_ tank," Krishna confessed, looking directly at me.

My eyes widened. _Oh, man…was she flirting with me?_ Or was I reading too much into her comments?

Steph chimed in, "Krishna not only makes our cupcakes, she also creates all the recipes we serve in the diner."

My eyes flew open at that mention. "Now that's impressive. I've been coming to the diner for eight months and have never had a bad meal. They've all been delicious. Steph tells me the food is extremely healthy and yet seems to exclude everything that usually makes food taste good. You must be an extremely talented chef."

"Thanks, Tank. I like to think of the kitchen as my playground and different ingredients as my toys." Krishna's eyes had a sparkle to them as she shared, "Life should be viewed as a playground and I love it when new toys come into my life and I get the chance to play with them." I swore she winked at me.

She looked at me like I was one of her X-rated cupcakes. Part of me was turned on; the rest of me was scared as all get out. She was all woman and the lyrics, "_Hear me roar!_" filled my head. She reminded me of an African lioness…wild…beautiful…and one that enjoyed hunting and then devouring her prey. Was I ready to be caught and consumed?

I gulped, "It sounds like you're very passionate about your career choice." The way she was looking at me caused my breathing to become a little heightened.

"Passion is a key ingredient in both my recipes and my life," she agreed. "What about you, Tank, do you enjoy what you do?"

I thought about how to answer that. "Well, I started out my career in the Army and loved my stint as a Ranger. I now manage a nationwide security firm and enjoy the challenge, but I don't get out in the field enough. I used to do a lot of bounty hunting and miss chasing down the bad guys." I realized I was a hunter in my life, but so was Krishna. Maybe we'd make a good team.

"So you like a job that gets your heart pumping and the adrenaline flowing, eh?" Krishna grinned.

Two could play this game. "I like to get my heart pumping in all areas of my life," I gave her a sly smile. If she was a lioness, I could be a lion.

Steph interrupted our conversation to excuse herself, "Well, looks like I'm not needed here. Tank, if you have a cupcake order, Krishna can take it for you," she said. "Krishna, I'll take care of the kitchen. Take your time." With that, Steph smiled and disappeared through the swinging door.

"Well, that was subtle," Krishna laughed, as Steph left. She turned back to me. "Steph seemed to think there was something I could do for you, Tank."

How did I respond to that? Right off the bat I could think of a dozen things she could do to me…I mean, for me. I had a shit-eating grin plastered on my face, but I tried to keep it businesslike.

"I do have a cupcake order for you, but I'd like to reserve the right to ask something else of you later on?" I said.

"I look forward to it," she purred.

I continued gazing at her and leaned my elbows on the counter to get closer to her. She returned my gaze and I lost myself in her gorgeous brown eyes. After a full minute of this, I realized what I was doing and stood back up while Krishna smiled and reached for the order pad.

She cleared her throat, "What kind of sweet treat can I offer you?" I was still staring at her, my eyes sliding over her fine form and imagining the sweet treats she had to offer.

I had to stop and think about what I'd come in for. Oh, yeah, Ram's birthday.

"I work with a bunch of ex-military types, and they really appreciate any reminders of the 'good ole days.' One of our employees has a birthday coming up. So I was thinking of a soldier scene around a 'mountain' of cupcakes. You know, army men, rifles, tanks, maybe a patriotic theme."

Steph stuck her head out and added, "Ram's a bookworm, so add one cupcake with a soldier reading a book titled 'War and Peace'. And he likes lemon the best." She ducked back into the kitchen.

Krishna and I laughed at her blatant eavesdropping. We finished discussing my order and it was time for me to leave. It was now or never.

"If I may ask, how is it I've never seen you here before?"

Krishna laughed a deep hearty laugh, not one of those annoyingly giggly squeals some women make. "One of my conditions for working here was that I'd never have to deal with the public. I'm not good at making small chit chat; I prefer to devote myself to my work. I stay in the kitchen normally," she explained. "Though if I'd known we had customers like you coming in, I would have made an appearance more often."

Now this was definitely my kind of woman…gorgeous, straightforward and attracted to me.

"Krishna, would you be interested in going for a cup of coffee, now or after work?"


	12. Chapter 12 Welcome Home

**Chapter 12—Welcome Home**

Stephanie's POV

The last couple of months had gone by so fast. My regular routine was pretty much the same except for the addition of preparing for the Thursday lunches at the RangeMan office. I'd been worried about facing all the guys after my panic attack, but thank heaven for men, they never mentioned it. A bunch of women would have wanted to talk about it ad nauseam.

Each week was better than the last. The guys were opening up more and more, and now seemed very comfortable with me. I'd had great one-on-one conversations with each of them and learned a lot about their life histories and what made them tick. Each man had something special about him and I couldn't help falling in love with each and every one of them. Where were all these great guys when I was actually looking for someone?

Carlos had kept his distance, which I was thankful for, though he was always present and always made a point of talking with me before I packed everything up and left for the week. He hadn't queried me any more about my name. In fact, none of the guys had. I was 'Babe' to Carlos and 'Tiger' to the rest of the men.

Over the past several weeks, I'd given considerable thought about why I had originally felt so strongly about hiding my identity from Carlos. After my last divorce, I'd tried to date, but the men ran from me like I had leprosy. After two failed marriages and then being rejected by one man after another, my confidence plummeted to an all-time low. It made me feel better when I told myself it was _my decision_ not to date, like I was 'in control' again. It started out as a face saving measure, then it became part of my identity. I was determined to never again give any man that kind of control over me or my self-esteem. Mary Lou said I put out 'man hating' vibes. I certainly didn't hate men, but I didn't trust them either.

All I knew was that for the last fifteen years, my heart hadn't been broken once. But when Carlos Mañoso surprised me that hot day in August, my heart started to tremble again. I panicked. _Pure and simple._ I desperately needed to stay in control. If I didn't let him know who I was…if I didn't let him get close to me…he couldn't hurt me. Or so I told myself. I had a lifetime of living in denial, but the fallacy of it was finally catching up to me.

And then I did a stupid thing. I began to care about him. But I couldn't let go of that final wall…letting him know my name. Silly? _Fuckin' A!_

After each lunch, we talked about impersonal and casual things such as the weather, current events, books we'd read, food preferences. I asked him questions about RangeMan, how he started it and he explained his business and management philosophy. I learned bits and pieces about his past, that he (and most of the men working at RangeMan) had been an Army Ranger and had done 'special' projects as a contract employee for the government. I got the feeling his 'special' projects involved Black Ops work. It explained a lot about his stoic 'John Wayne' demeanor. The few times he asked me questions about my past, I managed to deflect them and he never pried. That just made me like him all the more.

CadyCakes was running smoothly and the trend of cupcake bouquets and tiered cupcake displays for large events didn't seem to be waning. Our works of art and flour were in high demand and special orders were at an all time high.

Mary Lou was our 'scientific' expert who gave us the nutritional facts, Krishna was the creative genius behind our unique taste and I was the marketing whiz that touted our health and flavor claims. The profits from CadyCakes helped support the diner and our educational efforts. Mary Lou was happy teaching her cooking classes and working with staff at various hospitals and assisted living communities to improve their menus. Donations were up and our home delivery service was booming.

We operated our home delivery service on a sliding scale. Some of our customers could afford to pay full price and others couldn't, but refused to accept charity, so we worked within each client's budget and personal wishes. We operated under the premise that it was the entire community's responsibility to take care of its residents, not just the government's.

One special cupcake order we received several weeks ago was especially fun to prepare. Tank stopped by with a cupcake order for Ram's birthday. Tank wanted a soldier theme and our decorators went all out with red, white and blue, and army men, tanks and rifles. In my conversations with Ram, I'd learned he was a real bookworm and always carried a book with him even into battle. So, amidst all the other action-oriented cupcake army men, I asked Krishna to include one soldier hunkered in a foxhole reading a book titled 'War and Peace.' I knew Ram would get a kick out of it.

Since I obviously couldn't be there for the party, I made Tank promise to take some pictures. Tank seemed more than happy to comply and even made a special trip back to show me, and especially Krishna, pictures of the guys enjoying the cupcakes.

Something was developing between Tank and Krishna. Since they were two of my favorite people, I was very happy for them. I thought they made a cute, though substantial, couple.

Krishna needed someone in her life to help keep her grounded. I'd known her since we were teenagers and she could get a little wild without some structure. I knew a lot about that because she and I had a lot of crazy times together in college. Right after she graduated, she got a job as a business executive in a nationwide investment firm. She was very successful, but she always wanted to be a chef.

When I'd asked her to go into partnership with Mary Lou and I, she jumped at the chance. She and her then boyfriend, Otto, moved out to Vegas and we started CadyCakes. But just last year, Krishna and Otto broke up. She dated a few times, but no one had been able to keep up with her. Tank seemed like someone who could give as good as he got. I planned to keep my fingers crossed for the two of them.

A month ago, I'd passed the big 5-0. _I was fifty years old!_ Mary Lou had crossed that ominous threshold two months ago. She and I went out for drinks, not to celebrate, but to drown our 'old lady' sorrows. We spent the first hour commiserating with each other and then as the drinks kicked in we both let our Jersey attitudes take over.

We convinced each other we still had smoking hot bodies and when Mare dared me to pick up a guy I accepted the challenge. Since she'd been happily married to Lenny for the past twenty-eight years, I didn't make her do the dare too. Within minutes I had a couple guys eating out of my hand. I danced with each of them several times and let them buy me a drink or two. It was heady stuff, though I demanded Mare take me home soon after. I'd never been into casual sex and I wasn't about to start now.

It would also be the last time Mary Lou and I would go 'bar hopping' for a while. Our little section of Las Vegas was normally peaceful and quiet, but after our girls' night out the evening news reported two guys getting badly roughed up in the parking lot of the nightclub where we'd celebrated my 50th birthday. Add to that poor Lester getting beaten up outside his neighborhood bar a few weeks ago and it just didn't seem safe in this part of town anymore.

Our next big business day at CadyCakes was Halloween. Cupcakes were a popular treat for costume parties. And this year, Halloween had been a personal triumph for me. I decided to dress up in a costume for my trip to RangeMan. I knew they'd be dressed in their own costumes: skintight black t-shirts, butt-hugging black cargoes and some form of black boots. But I wanted to push myself.

In my younger days, I liked dressing provocatively and I'd had the body to pull it off. My husband had encouraged me to wear sexy clothes, but he was also fiercely jealous. Even at the annual policemen's ball, Joe wouldn't allow me to dance with anyone else. He'd dance a couple of slow dances with me and then kept me by his side while he schmoozed his bosses. I wondered if he ever married again and if so, if he treated his new wife that way? Mary Lou had told me she'd heard he'd moved back to Trenton, but hadn't heard if he'd remarried.

My days of sexy dresses stopped after Cady was born. Joe repeatedly complained about my weight gain, saying I wasn't as sexy anymore. I took to wearing baggy pants and oversize blouses. My self-confidence took a nose dive.

But my birthday night out with Mare had been fun and it got me thinking. So when Halloween rolled around, I decided to strut my stuff again, but not in a public bar. When Joe and I were first married, I'd thrown a big costume party and dressed up in a sexy Wonder Woman outfit. As a kid, I'd dreamed of being a kickass heroine but with style. Wonder Woman was my role model. I wore the outfit every Halloween until I got pregnant.

Searching through boxes packed up long ago, I finally found the costume. With trepidation, I tried it on. Amazingly, I could still fit into it, but it was way too tight for comfort. Mare was great at sewing so she let it out for me and encouraged me to go for it. I could still wear the wristbands, belt and headdress. I wasn't happy with the cellulite on my thighs so I added flesh colored leggings to hide the lumpiness. Mary Lou also made me a generous red, white and blue cape I could wrap around my tummy when I sat down. Despite all the sit-ups and exercise I did, I couldn't seem to get back my flat stomach.

I couldn't believe I got up enough nerve to wear it to RangeMan for the Halloween lunch I brought and then parade around the conference room like I owned it. I wasn't totally buying the kickass heroine thing, but it was still a brave act for me to do. All the guys made me feel so good about myself, but they did so without obvious leering or mishandling me. Lester did pull me down on his lap once saying he wanted a closer look at my thigh-high boots. Carlos immediately stood up and called out, "Santos!" and that was the end of that. They were all polite, but I noticed their covert appreciative looks and I left feeling great about myself. Still didn't mean I'd want any man to see me naked, though.

When I learned the guys had to work on Thanksgiving just like it was a regular day, I knew I had to do something special. Carlos had insisted I take the day off, but the holiday fell on my regular Thursday and I insisted right back I would be there at the regular time with a special treat. Little did he know I was bringing an entire traditional turkey dinner complete with all the fixings.

We didn't start serving Thanksgiving dinner at Cady's until 3:00 pm and now that I had a car, _yeah I broke down and purchased a new Subaru Outback_, I could make it to both dinners on time.

I loaded up the Subaru with two huge roast turkeys, a mountain of mashed potatoes and gravy, stuffing, green bean casserole, candied yams, dinner rolls, a green salad (for Carlos), cranberry sauce, trays of appetizers and finger foods, and several pumpkin, apple and pecan pies with fresh whipped cream. Today was not a day for pinching calories, fat or salt. I thought the guys would appreciate an old-fashioned home cooked holiday meal.

Just before noon, on Thanksgiving Day, I pulled up in front of RangeMan and was surprised to find Carlos waiting outside for me. He leaned his arms against my car's open window.

"Happy Thanksgiving! It was really nice of you to give up your holiday to make us a meal. We don't make a big thing about holidays, they're just another day to a bunch of grumpy old men," he grinned in at me.

He held out a small remote. "This is for you, so you won't have to park on the street anymore." He motioned me toward the gate.

I stared up at him with my mouth hanging open. It was like being handed the keys to the kingdom. Ranger was so adamant about security measures for the building and he was giving me my own access key.

"Does this mean I'm now family, part of the RangeMan team? Do I have to wear black?" I quipped, emotion choking me up a bit.

"Yes, yes and no," he joked back. "Go on in. The guys are waiting for you."

I drove up to the closed gate and hit the green button. The gate rose and I entered the underground garage for the first time since I'd slipped in on my bicycle behind Cal last August. The guys were milling around inside, but when I drove in they stepped aside to reveal a coveted parking space next to the elevator and stairs. Helium-filled balloons bounced above the concrete bumper and my nameplate read 'Tiger.' I was smiling, but tears were filling my eyes.

I pulled into my very own RangeMan parking space and was immediately surrounded by a dozen hunks all dressed head to toe in black. Not for the first time, I wondered if they wore black boxers or briefs…or maybe they went commando, be still my beating heart.

I didn't get out of the car right away, trying to get my emotions under control, and then the car started rocking. I could see Lester, Bobby and Tank leaning on the hood grinning at me through the windshield. I had no doubt the guys could pick up my little car and carry me back through the gate if they wanted to.

My door opened and of course it was Lester. "Welcome home, Tiger," he said as he kissed my cheek and gave me his hand to help me out.

The guys were all leaning on my car grinning at me. I was still too stunned to react. Tank handed me a small black paper bag filled with blue tissue paper and I was encouraged to open it. I pulled out a black t-shirt, a woman's cut, with 'RangeMan' embroidered in blue over the left breast.

That did it! Tears ran down my cheeks as I tried to say something. Words wouldn't come so I just tried to smile through my tears at each of them.

"She's crying! You made her cry, Tank. No one said she'd cry," I heard Hal say in an upset voice.

I stepped over to Hal. "They're happy tears, Hal." I explained and spontaneously hugged him. It was the first time I'd done anything more than lightly touch any of them. He stood there, hands at his side not knowing how to react. I could feel him start to hyperventilate so I backed off. I hugged each of the men getting similar tense responses from many of them until I came face to face with Carlos.

"Thank you," I said, my voice barely above a whisper, and wrapped my arms around his waist. He was warm and hard and smelled incredibly sexy. I didn't want to let go. He held me tight for a minute and then dropped a kiss on top of my head.

Lester broke the tender moment with a shout, "Let's eat!" and swiped my keys from the ignition. He opened up the back of my car and the aroma of roast turkey hit the guys' noses. There were happy cries and exclamations of joy coming from these normally quiet soldiers. They made short work of carting the many bags and casserole dishes to the elevator and stairs. Carlos and I stood side by side and waited for the elevator to return.

"It seems you outdid yourself. We weren't expecting a full turkey dinner. Thank you for going above and beyond the call of duty."

"Hey, I'm one of you now," I said, holding up the RangeMan t-shirt to my chest. "Nothing but the best for my guys. And thank you for my parking space. And not just any space, but the one closest to the elevator. Who'd I kick out?"

"I have three spots assigned to me. I like cars, but I can only drive one at a time. I put the truck over there," and he pointed to a beefed-up black Ford 450. My space was next to his Porsche Carrera. I felt doubly privileged and hoped I never dinged it.

"It's okay, Babe. It's just a car. Dings come with the territory." I did a mental head slap. Carlos still shook me up enough that I babbled my thoughts out loud.

The elevator opened and we went up to join the rest of the crew in the conference room. I shooed everyone out so I could set the table. Normally I brought paper plates and plastic cutlery, but since it was Thanksgiving, I packed my nice stoneware and my Grandmother Plum's Chantilly silverware etched with her (maiden) initials. I'd even brought a couple of white linen tablecloths and a harvest-themed centerpiece. We were going to eat in style today. I finished 'decorating' and called everyone to dinner.

The guys were grinning and shaking their heads. There were comments like, "Tiger, you did all this for us?" "It looks and smells fantastic." And "It's just like home." And of course, "I'm starved. Let's eat," from Lester.

It was Hal who suggested we say 'Grace' and to my surprise all the guys bowed their heads as Hal said a short prayer. Then it was bedlam as dishes were passed around and everyone filled their plates to overflowing. I silently gave thanks to fate or to whatever brought these wonderful men into my life.


	13. Chapter 13 Best Laid Plans

**Chapter 13—Best Laid Plans**

Ranger's POV

I was starting to climb the walls. It had been three and a half months since a face full of paint had brought her into my life, yet I was no closer to knowing not only her name, but also anything else about her. Except for her immense capacity to give of herself and her complete acceptance of a bunch of quiet massive men who looked and acted intimidating.

Each week I was able to spend about an hour and a half with her, but I had to share her with my men. I couldn't touch her or hold her in my arms, let alone kiss her or do what I dreamed of doing with her each night. Before she came into my life I thought my libido had finally started to decline a bit, but for the last three months nightly cold showers or jacking off had been the norm. Thursday nights and Fridays were the worst for me.

The men had been talking among themselves about my increasing grouchiness and ill temper. They'd also noticed on Fridays I was much worse. They were smart men and could put two and two together.

Tank finally brought it up to me the other day when he drove me to the Porsche dealership to pick up my newly repaired Carrera. Someone had poked a gun barrel through the iron garage gate and unloaded several rounds into my favorite vehicle while it was parked in RangeMan's supposedly secure garage. He'd done it at night after Thanksgiving and we caught him on tape, but the guy was dressed entirely in black, including a black ski mask. We knew he was about six feet tall, had a muscular body type, used a 9mm weapon and that was it.

I tried to pass off my increasing grouchiness on the senseless act of vandalism, but Tank wasn't buying it. I wasn't about to admit that my patience was being sorely taxed and that I was horny. Tank would only drag me to some strip club or hire a hooker for me. The days that kind of thing would interest me were long gone. Even visiting an 'old friend' had no appeal for me.

There was only one woman I wanted and she'd made it clear she wouldn't welcome my or any other man's attentions. I knew Lester had asked her out on numerous occasions and she gently rebuffed him each time. While I was glad she wasn't interested in Lester, I didn't know what that bode for me. Based on my observations, I'd say each man on the day shift, young or old, with the exception of Hector had the hots for her. And based on his smiles and blushes when she teased him, even Hector might be persuaded to switch teams for her.

It took all my strength to resist the urge to pull her down on my lap and kiss her senseless when she wore that incredibly sexy Wonder Woman costume for Halloween. I actually had to check myself for drool. When Santos yanked her onto his lap, I nearly went ballistic. At some point or another during lunch, each man had to scoot his chair up to the table to hide his erection. She wasn't even being overtly sexy, but damn, the way she strutted her amazing body showcased so beautifully in that skimpy costume was definitely a cock teaser. She could give any Vegas showgirl a run for her money. She wearing that outfit became one of my favorite fantasies.

It had been years since I'd noticed much about the women I 'dated' other than an overall impression. With Babe, I hadn't even kissed her, yet I already knew every angle and plane of her face, every swell and curve of her body, every emotion that crossed her expressive face. But I could only watch her from a distance. The best part of my week was the few minutes we had to talk alone after each Thursday's lunch. I'd exercised patience and I knew she trusted me with a lot, but her heart was still tightly guarded.

Thanksgiving was another hard day. For a brief moment I was able to hold her in my arms and have her hug me back. Her delicate hands stroked my back sending shivers up and down my spine. She was so soft and warm and smelled heavenly.

She'd hugged each of my men that day; I was only the last to receive her warm embrace. I imagine we all felt we had a special bond with her. I couldn't believe I was actually jealous of the time and attention she lavished on my men.

When I saw the tears in her eyes, I felt just like Hal. I equated tears with pain. To see her smile as tears rolled down her cheeks was a bit confusing, but I'd grown up with sisters who always befuddled me with their conflicting emotions.

None of us had spent much time around women the past thirty years, so experiencing Babe's range of emotions was a bit bewildering. But the way she drew us in was her saving grace. She made each of us feel as if we, and we alone, could put that incredible smile on her face and sparkle in her blue eyes.

After Thanksgiving, I was more determined than ever to find some way to spend more time with her, to get closer to her. Anything that even remotely hinted of a 'date' was out. Thinking back to the first day we met gave me an idea.

I made a few phone calls to the city's volunteer bureau and the next weekend the employees of RangeMan were scheduled to perform an act of community service, namely painting over graffiti on a block fence and a building on 5th Street and Mountain View. When I informed Babe, she was delighted and insisted on joining us, which I'd counted on. I planned on making it a productive and playful day, one that brought us closer, both physically and emotionally.

0o0o0o0o0o0o

Ram and Cal picked up the paint and rollers early Saturday morning; I wasn't chancing a paint sprayer this time. Babe met us at the designated location, decked out in khaki shorts and a stretchy blue tank top with her curly locks pulled back in a loose ponytail. _Dios_, she was a tempting sight.

We broke up into teams of two and split the fence sections evenly between everyone. I made Babe my partner; she thought it was fitting justice given the way we first met. Our section of the fence was around the corner, out of sight of the rest of the guys. I wasn't a Captain in the Rangers for my good looks; I was a tactical strategist.

The 'paint war' between us started out as good clean fun. Babe crossed over into my section with her roller and messed up my straight even lines. I pushed her roller with mine and she pushed back. My roller 'slipped' and ran up her arm coating her fair skin with paint.

Her mouth made an 'O' and then she flashed me a wicked smile. She dipped her roller in the paint and flicked me with it. Drops of paint splashed across my chest, the beige paint bright against the black t-shirt.

I shot her my own wicked grin and saw a hint of trepidation in her face. Picking up a small paintbrush I dipped it in the bucket and in a split second had her pinned against a freshly painted section of fence.

Babe gave a small cry as the wet paint soaked through the back of her tank top. I pressed my body more firmly into hers forcing her bare shoulders and thighs against the wall.

"You rat!" she cried, trying to push me away by grabbing my belt, but she was laughing as she struggled. I held the brush over her head and let a few drops trickle onto her cute little nose.

"_No! You wouldn't?"_ she shrieked and struggled a little harder. Her eyes got big as she realized how helpless she was. I was only using my body to hold her; I wasn't even touching her with my hands. She rotated her hips against me, which had me hard in an instant. The feel of her body pressed to mine and then her soft breasts sliding across my torso were incredible foreplay for me. The more she wiggled the more aroused I got. I'd forgotten how much fun it could be to playfully tease and be teased.

Suddenly, she stilled and her eyes shot up to meet mine. A rosy blush suffused her cheeks and I knew she felt me pressing rock hard against her belly.

"Play with fire, Babe," I whispered, "and it's going to get hot." I felt her nipples hardened against my chest and her breathing quickened. _Dios, I wanted her!_ I brushed my lips across hers, but she twisted and turned her head away exposing her succulent throat to me. I dropped my head lower and kissed her neck. When she didn't push me away, I gently sucked her sweet skin into my mouth tonguing its softness as I added a little more pressure.

She let out a low moan and thrust her hips up. Her response was so unexpected and arousing I nearly lost control then and there. I was so turned on all I could visualize was plunging inside of her, imagining her hot core sheathing me, squeezing me. The fact that we were in full view of anyone who might walk by didn't matter. All that mattered was my Babe and me pressed against each other, feeling our bodies' respond to the other. Time stood still.

It wasn't until I felt her hands push against my chest that I let out my own groan. I didn't want to let her go. I knew this wasn't the time or place, but hell, I couldn't resist her, just a taste of her. I could feel her warm breath on my neck as she whispered, "Carlos, please."

She pushed me again and I gave way letting her slip under my arms, while I got control of myself. That wasn't quite what I'd anticipated doing today, but now that she responded to me it was something I was going to do again and again, no matter how many times she slipped away.

When I turned around, she was repainting the area I'd held her against. I picked up my roller and joined her. We didn't speak, but she gave me a smile as we continued rolling on the paint side by side. I know my own face sported a full on smile. _Damn, if one innocent teasing moment with her caused me to feel this good, what would it feel like when we made love?_

We'd nearly finished painting our section when we heard a sharp loud crack followed by the screeching of tires and then a horrendous crash. I spun around as another screech of metal sounded and saw a minivan careening toward us. I threw my arm around my Babe's waist and swept her along with me as I sprinted to avoid getting run over. The van just barely missed us and crashed through the section of block fence we'd just painted. The minivan was wedged tight in the resulting hole.

My men raced around the corner to check on us and I pointed to the intersection where two other badly damaged vehicles were wrapped around each other. Tank called 911, while I told Babe to stay put. I rushed to the minivan and the rest of the guys raced to the two other damaged vehicles.

A quick assessment showed a family of five in the minivan, all with some level of injury. The three children in the back seat were trapped by the crushed doors, but didn't seem seriously injured. The mother was unconscious with a head wound. Her right leg was severely gashed and pinned under the dashboard. The father was slumped against the driver's door and there was quite a bit of blood from what looked like several head wounds but he was conscious. The father was clutching his left arm and begging me to get his children out. There was spilled fuel everywhere increasing the chance of an explosion. Time was of the essence. Tank ran to the passenger side to assist the woman and I concentrated on freeing the crying children.

It didn't take me long to free the first of the kids. I called out to Babe for her to take the little girl. I looked over my shoulder as I heard a loud rumbling noise and felt the vehicle jerk backward. I glanced over at Tank where he was bent low trying to free the woman's leg.

A blood curdling scream pierced the air and both Tank and I looked toward the driver's seat. The door was now hanging open and we could see the man leaning against the jamb. Clutching the young girl in my arms, I crawled out through the back window and hurried around to the driver's side. What I saw nearly made me drop my precious charge.

The driver of the minivan was now standing next to his vehicle amidst the rubble of the rapidly crumbling block fence. He was screaming incoherently. His left arm hung limp from his shoulder and blood was spurting from his armpit. I realized his arm had been severed from the bottom up and was attached only by his deltoid muscle and clavicle.


	14. Chapter 14 Bloody Hell

**Chapter 14—Bloody Hell**

Ranger's POV

Babe had been standing near the back of the van to help with the children. When the screaming started she darted around to the driver's side and was the first one to reach the rapidly bleeding out man.

Without hesitation she pulled the injured father to her, pressing his nearly severed arm and left side of his body into her chest. She wrapped her arms around him interlocking her fingers together and pulled him even tighter. _Smart tactic_. She was using his arm as a compress wedged between their bodies to staunch the arterial spurting. All this time she was speaking softly but firmly to the hysterical man, instructing him to calm down, take deep breaths and stand still. The frightened man struggled at first, but I could see him respond to her calm and authoritative voice.

I had to turn away so the child in my arms couldn't see what was happening to her father. I caught Lester's attention and he ran over from the intersection and immediately sized up the urgency of the situation. He ran to get Bobby.

Several nearby store owners and customers had gathered, as people do at any accident scene. Needing to be back at the accident scene, I thrust the scared but uninjured child I was carrying into the arms of an older woman wearing a smock with Kelly's Nails screen printed in hot pink across the front and asked the woman to take the child away from the scene.

I turned back to the bloody scene with Babe and the father, fearing the worst. I was worried she wouldn't be able to handle the stress, both physically and mentally. My voice was filled with concern, "Babe, I'm sorry…"

"_No! No sympathy, please_." Her eyes pleaded with me to shut up. "Just tell me…has the blood flow stopped?" she asked in a low controlled voice.

She was struggling to stay strong. I looked on both sides of their bodies and saw she and the man were literally drenched in blood. It was hard to tell if any fresh blood was oozing out. "It's slowed, but I can't tell if it's stopped," I answered truthfully.

Bobby raced up and quickly took in the situation. "Quick thinking, Tiger. Looks like you've staunched the arterial flow. Can you maintain this tight a pressure until we can get to the hospital?"

"If we leave now," she said through clenched teeth.

I could see the constant tension straining her arm and back muscles. Under such intense pressure, in a few minutes her muscles would feel like they were burning and the pain would become unbearable. I wished I could do this for her, but Bobby nixed that saying any disturbance right now chanced starting the arterial spurting again. The man had already lost so much blood.

As the good field medic he once was, Bobby took charge and barked out, "Ranger, back your truck up to us. Lester, find a bench or a couple of chairs." He whistled loudly and motioned for Cal and Ram to join us.

I sprinted to the truck and maneuvered it as close as I could to the minivan. Lester arrived with two wooden chairs he'd grabbed from an outdoor café that was part of the strip of shops next to the fence. Bobby took the chairs and put one behind Babe's knees and one next to the shocky man.

Bobby explained his plan. "We need to settle them onto the chairs and then, as one, lift them into the bed of the truck. If we brace them well enough with our bodies, they shouldn't jostle too much and the drive to the emergency room is only a few minutes away."

We all understood what we needed to do and in less than a minute, Babe and the nearly unconscious man were secured in their chairs in the bed of the truck. Cal was our best driver so I handed him the keys and locked myself around Babe's chair and her legs. Ram sat down across from me and wrapped his arms around the man's chair and Lester and Bobby braced them both around their torsos.

Hal saw the activity and raced over. When he saw Babe covered in blood, he went white as a sheet and stumbled against the truck. If the blood had been on one of us, Hal wouldn't have blinked an eye, but this was Tiger and he nearly went to pieces. I told him to help Tank get the woman and two remaining children out of the van pronto and care for them until police and paramedics came. Cal carefully drove the truck over the curb into the street and headed for the hospital.

It had been several minutes now that Babe had been forcefully compressing the man's shoulder to her in an attempt to stop the arterial flow of blood. I knew just how difficult it was to maintain that kind of extreme hold and to witness this remarkable woman doing it under such unusual circumstances was humbling. Her muscles had to be screaming in agony about now, but she looked as calm as if we were out for a Sunday drive, a very bloody Sunday drive.

All of a sudden the injured man woke up and tried to thrash himself free, shouting that he needed to go to his family. Bobby and Lester were able to physically restrain him, but it was Babe's calm voice that quieted him down.

She explained his family was being well cared for, but he still insisted he needed to be there with them. What she said next surprised me, though in retrospect, it shouldn't have. She asked him to trust her that his family was in the best possible hands…with good men who would stop at nothing to protect them.

He turned his head so he could look in her eyes. "What's your name?" he asked. My body tensed.

In a soft but clear voice, she replied, "My name's Stephanie. What's yours?"

_Stephanie!_ I knew she offered her _real_ name; this was about building trust between them. After months of trying to discover that one little bit of information, it dropped into my lap as I sat in the bed of my truck hugging my Babe's legs in a hellish race through Vegas' city streets.

_My Babe's name was Stephanie! Estefania! It suited her._

The man answered, "Martin. Martin Booth. I trust you, Stephanie. Promise me you'll stay with my kids so they aren't too frightened in the hospital. Cheryl, my oldest…I call her Fred…is scared of hospitals. Promise me…"

"I promise, Martin," she vowed.

Steph started asking him questions about his children. Responding to her genuine, caring nature, he told her all about them and answered when she asked things like, what their favorite color or animal was, or if they had a favorite bedtime story or lullaby. With heads bent together, the two talked quietly on our mad dash to the hospital, but it was obvious the man was fading fast.

As we pulled into the hospital parking lot, Bobby, who'd phoned ahead, gave us our orders. Cal swung the truck right up to the ER doors, which burst open spilling out a slew of people in white coats. Word had spread about the unusual nature of this emergency.

We reversed our earlier process and carefully lifted the chairs that held our two charges out of the truck bed. With all our years of working together, we were able to operate smoothly as one. Martin was totally out of it by now and was slumped against Babe…Stephanie. The wall of white coats backed up as we continued moving into the ER and down the hall near the trauma rooms. We carefully lowered the chairs to the floor. I rose and placed my hand on Babe's/Stephanie's shoulder trying to support her in the only way I could.

A middle-aged woman in a white coat came running down the hall as the rest of the hospital staff parted to let her through.

"_Bloody 'ell!_" she cried out in a British accent as she reached us and took in the unusual scene.

"I'm Dr. Post," she introduced herself as she crouched down next to Stephanie and examined Martin. "Good job. That was using your noggin. You must be eager to turn your patient over to us. Can you hold out a few minutes longer, love?" she asked Stephanie. The doctor motioned for a nurse to begin gathering vitals from the unconscious man.

Steph was breathing heavily and was clearly in pain and losing strength, but she gritted her teeth and nodded yes. Again, I wished I could take over for her, but at this stage of the game it was a one-person job and I could only stand by helplessly and watch.

Bobby introduced himself and Stephanie to Dr. Post and shared what information he had with her. He offered suggestions on how to proceed based on his battlefield experiences as a frontline medic. She thanked him and then consulted with the other white coats gawking over the bloody spectacle sitting in the middle of the hall. A few phone calls later and then controlled chaos began. There was a flurry of activity as people scurried around and equipment was moved into place.

Dr. Post returned with another doctor, a tall well-built man with large powerful arms. She explained to Stephanie what was about to happen.

"We need to separate you two, but we want to retain the pressure on Mr. Booth's artery as long as possible. So, Dr. Ashby is going to take your place, but from the opposite side. The arm will be exposed then and we can go to work much quicker. Dr. Ashby is going to have to work his hands around Mr. Booth's injured shoulder, which is burrowed tightly between your breasts."

Stephanie gave her a _'why me'_ look and pursed her lips, staring at the handsome doctor as he pulled up a chair and sat on the other side of the unconscious Martin Booth.

He grinned at Steph and introduced himself, "I'm Dale Ashby, Stephanie. Considering where my hands are going to be in a moment, I thought we should be on a first name basis. Please forgive my forwardness."

I clenched my teeth as the young doctor slid his hands between Booth's torso and Steph's outstretched arms. Ashby worked his hands in between Steph's bloody breasts, seeming to enjoy the quick grope. As he closed his hands around Martin's limp arm and slowly pulled the unconscious man against his chest, there was a sucking sound. The amount of blood covering Stephanie was overwhelming.

Ashby looked Steph in the eyes and instructed, "Okay, Stephanie. Slowly release your grip and carefully pull your arms away from Booth. If you don't have the strength, maybe your friend here could help?" Ashby looked up at me and I nodded.

I crouched behind Steph and laid my cheek next to hers. "Your muscles may be cramped up from the intense hold you've had to maintain. Unlock your fingers, Babe, and if you can't move, let me know and I'll pull you backward."

She managed to nod and closed her eyes. I could feel her strain just to move her fingers. I gripped her elbows and waited.

"I can't do it," she whispered.

I leaned back slowly pulling her to me. Without the constant tension on her muscles, her arms went limp and she cried out in pain. I wrapped my arms around her and carried her down the hall away from the rush of doctors and nurses that immediately surrounded Ashby and Booth. Bobby followed us, checking Stephanie's pulse as we went. We found a quiet corner in the ER and I set her down on a chair.

Dazedly, Stephanie looked down at herself. There wasn't a spot on her front side that wasn't covered in a thick coat of bright red blood. An indescribable look came over her face and she shot up out of the chair. Her breathing now coming in quick pants, she gasped, _"Shower! I need a shower."_ She was trembling and holding her arms away from her body.

I left her briefly with Bobby while I asked a nurse if we could use the hospital's shower facilities. When she started to tell me why that wasn't possible, I 'asked' again using the commanding voice and stance I'd learned as a Captain in the Rangers.

Eyes wide, she immediately led me down a side hall and showed me a locker room. I ran back to Steph and Bobby, who was rubbing Steph's back and speaking quietly to her. She was shaking and breathing way too rapidly. I knew the adrenaline was leaving her bloodstream and she'd be crashing fast.

I reached for her wrist and spoke gently to her, "Showers are this way, Babe. Can you walk?"

I got a slight nod and Steph followed my lead. As we walked down the side hall, Steph soon passed me tearing at her clothes. The look on her face told me she was quickly losing it. I caught up with her as she pulled off her bloody tank top. She was jogging now and trying to unbutton her shorts, but her fingers and the buttons were coated with viscous blood, making it a slippery chore. I held the door to the locker room open for her and she ran inside sobbing as she tried to catch her breath.

I knew she shouldn't be left alone in her current state, so I followed her in. She was standing in an archway and beyond her were small individual shower stalls covered with vinyl curtains. I watched her pulling frantically at her remaining clothes. She was unable to manipulate her bra clasp or the buttons on her shorts and she was panicking. I imagined her fingers were still numb and having Martin's blood down her entire front had her in a frenzy. She was hyperventilating and I was worried she'd faint.

"Babe, let me help you," I spoke to her calmly, but she was so focused I doubted she heard me.

She was trying to force her still buttoned shorts past her hips. She turned and screamed to me, _"Get it off! Please, get it off me! Now!" _

I whipped out the knife I always carried in my boot and went to her. "Stand still."

Reaching around her with my free hand, I flicked the hooks on her bra, which she immediately flung off her. Blood was coating even the underside of her breasts. I carefully but quickly slid the blade down each side of her shorts and panties and they dropped to the floor. I bent down and pulled her canvas shoes off and then stood back up.

She was standing naked before me, but it was nothing like in my fantasies. It looked like she was wearing bright red paint from top to bottom and she was shaking so bad she could barely stand. One part of me just wanted to hold her and take her pain away. The other part made me feel like a sick bastard, but God help me, she was beautiful. I clamped down on all feelings.

I tore my shirt over my head and pulled off my boots before turning on the shower and adjusting it to a hot but bearable temperature. I helped Stephanie into the small space and then stepped in behind her.

Her hands moved ineffectually over her body as she stood under the full spray of the showerhead. The shaking was getting worse. There was a bottle of generic body soap on the shelf so I poured a generous amount in my hands. I reached around her and gently ran my hands over her front starting with her shoulders and arms, and then moving to her breasts and torso.

I squatted behind her, my head against her hip and continued my way down her thighs and lower legs using soft strokes to remove the remaining blood that had started to dry. I had to insert my hands between her thighs to get her to shift her legs a bit to wash away the blood that had pooled in her lap during the ride into the ER.

This was so not how I envisioned taking a first shower with my Babe. She was sobbing and had both hands braced against the back wall of the stall. I noticed she even had blood in her hair. I explained I was going to wash her hair and gently moved her head under the water stream. Leaning over her shoulder I whispered soothing words in Spanish as my hands worked their way through her curly hair. After that, I did a final rub down of her porcelain white skin massaging the tension out of her taut muscles.

There was still some dried beige paint on her back and thighs and I remembered our playfulness earlier that morning. It seemed like a lifetime ago.


	15. Chapter 15 To Hell and Back Again

**Chapter 15—To Hell and Back Again**

Ranger's POV

Turning off the shower I stepped out and waited for her to follow. She just stood there, back to me, her shoulders shaking as she cried. I stepped back in and turned her around holding her to me. She sobbed into my chest and I ran my hands up and down her back. I knew it was her reaction to the adrenaline leaving her system, but I still felt like my heart was breaking, feeling her sobbing body against mine and being powerless to stop it.

As I stroked her I told her, "I'm here, Babe. It's going to be okay. Estoy tan orgulloso de ti." I realized I'd lapsed into Spanish. I reiterated, "I'm so proud of you." She'd been amazing today and if Booth lived through his surgery, it would be because of her fast thinking actions.

When she finally quieted down and her shaking stopped, I was acutely aware of her nudity and the fact that she was pressed up close to my partially naked body. If the situation had been a little different, I might have found some humor in it. Finally having my Babe naked and in my arms and not being able to follow through. The longer we stood there, the more I could feel her energy drain from her and soon her body slumped against mine.

I carried her out of the shower and found a storage locker filled with towels and neatly folded clean scrubs. Laying a towel down on the bench, I lowered her to it and then toweled her dry. She still had dried paint clinging to her, but all the blood was washed off. She was motionless, her face blank.

I couldn't help but admire her naked body. She was still slender, especially for a woman I assumed was in her late forties, though I could tell she didn't exercise regularly. She was wonderfully soft, not hard-bodied like I was. Her skin was pale next to my darker color. For some reason, the sharp contrasts between us aroused me.

I continued to dry off her legs and feet, finding it difficult not to look at her. She had small upturned breasts and her nipples were hard in the cool locker room. She was short-waisted, her height coming mainly from her long, long legs that ended in a soft full ass. As beautiful and tempting as she was, right now there was a part of her missing, the part of her I was so attracted to. The vibrant intriguing woman I'd met that day so many months ago wasn't in evidence.

I handed her the blue cotton scrubs, but she just stared at them, a dull, unfocused look in her eyes. It was actually painful to see her this way. Shaking out the bottoms I slid them up her long slender legs. She didn't move, so I lifted her with one hand and pulled the scrubs over her hips, tying the drawstring at her waist. She'd have to go commando. When I slipped the top over her head she tried to raise her arms, but she didn't have any strength left so I finished dressing her.

Gathering up her bloody clothes and shoes, I tossed them in the trashcan. Then I grabbed an extra large blue scrub top for myself and tied my bootlaces together.

Hopefully, all she needed was a good night's sleep. "Come on, Babe, we're going home," I told her as I picked her up in my arms and walked out of the locker room, boots dangling from my arm. That got the first coherent response from her since she'd released her grip on Martin.

"I can't," she whispered.

I looked into her beautiful blue eyes and was thrilled to see a spark of life returning.

"I promised," she said.

"Promised what?" What was she talking about?

"The children. I have to take care of the children," she said in a louder voice.

I knew she was drained physically and emotionally by today's unexpected events, but I doubted I could convince her to leave the hospital until she'd seen the kids were alright.

"Okay. Let's go find them." A promise is a promise.

Smiling, she kissed my cheek and gave a little sigh. Then she tucked her head under my chin, closed her eyes and snuggled into my chest. I felt her giving me her complete trust in that one moment. Feeling ten feet tall, I walked the halls holding Steph in my arms until I found a nurse's station. I asked one of the nurses about the Booth children. The nurse stared first at me and then at Stephanie still cradled in my arms.

"I'm fine. I just got a bit dizzy," she explained to the nurse.

To me, Steph said sweetly but firmly, "Let me down, Carlos. I can walk now." I set her down on her bare feet, but held on to her waist. I didn't want to break our connection and I loved touching her.

I explained the situation with the Booth family and asked about their condition and then their location. We found out Martin was still in surgery and his wife, Linda, had suffered a concussion and a serious wound in her leg that had to be sutured. She'd been treated and sedated and was in a room on the second floor, mainly for observation overnight. The three children had escaped serious injury and only had minor cuts and bruises and were still in the ER. Luckily, they'd all been wearing seat belts.

We found Cal, Ram and Lester in the ER waiting room. They silently took in Steph's wet hair and scrubs and the scrub top I was wearing. We were both barefoot.

They told us Bobby was with the kids in one of the trauma rooms. Steph went to check on them while I put on my boots and asked about the victims in the other vehicles. Ram told me they'd gone to another hospital. He also told me one of the drivers had a gunshot wound in addition to his other injuries. We'd all heard what we assumed at the time was a car backfiring, but now knew was a gunshot. Violence was on the increase everywhere, but we wondered if this was really just a coincidence. Tank and the others had stayed at the scene to talk to the police and clean up our painting gear. I asked them to be sure to get Babe's car to RangeMan.

I went in search of Stephanie, but Bobby found me first. He was singing her praises. "She's incredible, Ranger. First, the way she handled herself in that crisis with Booth. She didn't even hesitate; she just acted. That hold she had on him took a lot of raw physical strength, not to mention endurance and determination. Then how fast she recovered from her adrenaline crash. Her panic attack was to be expected; all that blood had to be frightening. Especially for a civilian. But she's fine now."

Bobby rarely got excited about anything. He led me over to a curtained off space in the ER trauma area. "And now, come here, you gotta see this. The kids had been crying nonstop until she walked in. She's only been with them for a few minutes."

Pulling aside the curtain a bit, he motioned me to take a look. Steph was sitting up in a bed, her back against the wall and three young children were cuddled up around her. She was reassuring them and stroking their backs liked I'd done with her earlier. I listened as they asked questions about their parents and she responded truthfully, but kept her answers vague and as positive as possible.

She glanced over at me and smiled, which got a big smile from me in return. She was unbelievably beautiful, especially considering all she'd been through today. Her wild curls were softly floating around her face like a halo. I'd never seen her hair untamed like that, no gel or spray to weigh it down. I wanted to run my fingers through it.

She motioned me to come in. "Kids, this is Ranger. He was in the Army Rangers. That's a very special kind of soldier. He's the one who got you out of the minivan, Leah."

The littlest girl looked up at me, "I 'member you, but you had a black shirt."

"Yes, I did, but it got dirty so the hospital let me borrow this one," I said, walking closer to the bed. "How are you feeling?"

"Okay," she sighed and cuddled closer to Stephanie. Steph introduced me to the other two kids. The older girl looked like she'd been crying, but now she was all smiles tucked under Stephanie's arm. The little boy was glaring at me with his arm possessively around Steph's waist. I knew how he felt.

I turned back to Bobby and told him to take the other guys back to RangeMan and leave me a vehicle. Then I pulled a chair over to the bed having no idea what to say to children in this or any other circumstance. My experience with kids was limited to the occasional visit home to my family. My four sisters and one brother had nobly done their familial duty and passed on the Mañoso genes to nearly two dozen offspring. Family get-togethers were noisy and chaotic and while I loved my family, I avoided such large hectic gatherings and especially the young children.

But Stephanie seemed right at home. Over the next few hours, with a short break to answer questions and sign an incident report from the police department, she talked with the children about their family life, their interests and about school with the older two. Now she was telling them some fairy tale about a princess bride and her true love, Wesley.

Earlier, I'd made a run to the cafeteria and brought back sandwiches, fruit and small cartons of milk and juice. The kids were getting sleepy, but I doubted Steph would leave them when they fell asleep. We were in for a long night.

I went out to the reception window and asked to speak to a hospital administrator. Turns out the Booths were in Las Vegas for a vacation and had no other family nearby. Twenty minutes later, an orderly was ushering all of us down the hall to a large room with three beds. It was always amazing what a sizable donation can do to motivate people.

We settled the two girls in one bed, the boy in another and I insisted Steph take the third one. Instead she pulled up a chair between the kids' beds and finished her story of what I thought was a cute fairy tale, but it turned out it had dread pirates, evil princes, rodents of unusual size, torture and death. The kids loved it. I dimmed the lights. One by one they drifted off to sleep and soon it was just Steph and me.

She'd blown me away today. Her quick action, strength and compassion saved a man's life. And then she devoted the rest of the day and night to caring for the man's frightened children. From the way she moved, I could tell her upper body muscles were causing her considerable discomfort. Not for the first time, I wanted to wrap her up in my arms and take her pain away.

I got up from my chair by the door. "Babe, you're amazing with them, but you've got to be exhausted. Let me help you into bed." She stood up as I got closer, giving me a lopsided grin.

"Said the big bad wolf to little Red Riding Hood," she quipped, holding out her hand to wave me off. "I'd recognize those big teeth anywhere." She was smiling as she teased me, but then she took a deep breath. "And, Carlos, why don't you call me Steph?"

I grinned, "I'd like that, though if you don't mind, I'd still like to call you Babe sometimes. I kind of got used to it." Now that we were 'alone' I drank her in. She looked so soft and sexy with her wild curls in constant motion.

A sheepish grin spread across her face, "I have no good explanation for not telling you my real name before. You've been nothing but upfront with me. You have to be the most forgiving, generous and understanding man I've ever met to put up with the likes of me the past three or four months." Her grin turned into an apologetic frown.

"I've accosted you with paint and verbally attacked your integrity. I now know you would never do anything to disrespect anyone. You've seen me lose it twice now and…" Steph's cheeks glowed bright pink, "you've seen me naked. Hell, you were forced to touch this fat old wrinkled body."

She turned her head away from me as she said this, embarrassed to look me in the eye. I know my face didn't show it, but in my mind my jaw dropped open. This sexy wonderful woman was running herself down and it was totally unwarranted. She was beautiful and capable and, in spite of her fears, incredibly brave.

"Babe…" I started, but she looked back up and shook her head at me. I reached out and touched her arm, but removed it when I felt her tense up.

She stepped back, but continued talking, "I'm sorry I put you through that…with all the blood and the shower and me breaking down. You must think I'm a real mess. I hate hospitals; I haven't been in one since…" She closed her eyes and swallowed. "But you were a perfect gentleman. You've always been the perfect gentleman."

She touched my forearm, but when I started to close my hand over hers, she pulled back again. She didn't give me a chance to talk. She rushed on.

"I'm sorry I snapped at you when you tried to offer me comfort when I was with Martin. I do okay in crisis situations as long as no one offers me any sympathy. Then I go to pieces. With all my hang-ups and idiosyncrasies, I'm surprised you haven't run screaming from me before now. I'm just the nut job who spray-painted your face on a public street."

She grimaced and swayed a bit. "You're unbelievably kind and compassionate. And calm. I think I'm just now learning to appreciate how wonderful cool, calm and collected can be. It's a quality I don't have much experience with, but I really like it on you. You are a rare man, Carlos."

Her eyes closed briefly and then she stumbled. Catching her by the waist, I pulled her to me and gazed into her eyes. They were clear, but she was obviously nearing the end of her endurance.

I would have to talk fast. Some of the things she said about herself shocked and puzzled me, but they all made me feel even more strongly about her.

In a low but firm voice, I told her, "It's my turn to talk now, so please listen, Babe…Stephanie. While I'm glad to finally know your first name, it had ceased to become an issue when I got to know the kind and caring person you are, your conviction to honoring your principles and your zest for life."

I tapped the tip of her nose with my finger and remembered the paint I'd dribbled on it just a few hours ago. So much had happened since then, but I was determined not to let any of it set us back. She was just starting to open up and let me in. I wasn't going to let her pull back now.

"What you did today with Martin blew me away. You were brave and strong and compassionate. Even Bobby was thoroughly impressed with you and he doesn't impress easily. As for your 'break down,' the adrenaline rush and 'let down' affects everyone differently. Don't give it a second thought. You never disappoint, _ever_."

"And as for your body…" I raised her chin up as she tried to duck her head down. She was going to hear this whether she wanted to or not. "It's smoking hot. Clothed or naked, I get turned on every time I look at you. I don't know what mirror you've been looking in, but I wish you could see yourself through my eyes. You're beautiful, Stephanie. Así, tan hermosa, Estefania." [_So, so beautiful, Stephanie_.]

Her eyes got big and their blueness intensified. I held back from kissing her so I could finish what I wanted, needed, to say to her. "I'm attracted to you, more than I could ever express, but it goes beyond physical attraction, Babe. I like everything about you, except maybe your stubbornness, and even that has a certain appeal." I gave her a quick grin.

"I'd never take advantage of you, but helping you in the shower today and not taking it any farther took a lot of control on my part. If you doubt my attraction to you, Stephanie, I stand ready to prove it…anytime."

Her eyes bored into mine as we stood there standing so close together, my hands at her waist. I bent down and softly brushed my lips against hers. Pulling a few inches away, I saw her eyes were closed, a dreamy look on her face. I took another kiss, this one longer with gentle pressure.

When she kissed me back, an intense wave of desire coursed through me sparking me to further action. Splaying both hands, I moved them across her back feeling her soft pliant body through the thin cotton scrubs. I tightened my hold on her. When she ran her delicate hands up my chest and caressed the back of my neck, I wanted to sweep her off her feet and take her to bed right then and there.

Knowing we were standing in a hospital room with three sleeping children tempered my lust. But as her fingers crept up my neck and twined themselves in my hair, I knew I'd keep kissing her as long as I could. And the kiss went on and on, straining the limits of my control. As one, our lips opened and we touched our tongues together, which sent additional sparks through me. The kiss deepened into a passionate embrace with our hands running up and down the other's body and our tongues and lips speaking the primal words of hungry love. She wasn't just clinging to me, she was initiating the fast pace.

She had me breathing hard and that wasn't all that was hard. This time, she didn't pull away when she felt my erection pressed against her stomach. She laid her head against my chest and we stood there in a quiet embrace. I stilled my breathing, trying to be content with just holding her in my arms.

All too soon, she pulled away mumbling, "Forgive me, I'm asleep on my feet." She walked the few feet to the empty bed and turned back to me.

"Carlos, thank you for staying with the children and me this evening and for arranging for this room. Please, go home now. You've done so much. I'll see you next Thursday?"

_Next Thursday? To hell with that._ "I'm not going anywhere. You're stuck with me." I motioned for her to slide under the covers.

"You aren't planning to stay _here_ all night? Where are you going to sleep?" she asked.

With a big grin, "Well, you've already called me the big bad wolf and he slept in Grandma's bed. I figure if we spoon, that bed would hold us both. I promise…no wolfish behavior." The wide-eyed look of concern she shot me was priceless.

"You're exhausted, Babe, and I'm tuckered out, too. We both need some sleep. I'll even stay on top of the covers. I promise, just sleep."

She mumbled something to herself about it wasn't me she was worried about and shook her head. "Okay, but I want this side in case the kids need me in the middle of the night," she said.

With that we crawled into bed and I pulled her back to my chest and wrapped my arm around her waist. She snuggled into me and murmured, "You're so warm." In minutes, she was fast asleep. I, on the other hand, was up for hours enjoying the feel of her warm body lying next to mine.


	16. Chapter 16 Cady

**Chapter 16—Cady**

Ranger's POV

Sometime during the night, each of the kids joined us in bed. I was all for carrying them back to their own beds as soon as they fell asleep, but Steph wouldn't hear of it. I had little legs and hands kicking and groping me where no child's hands should ever be. The rest of the night was miserable for me, but everyone else seemed to sleep just fine.

Stephanie and I woke up early as the hospital came to life. We took turns in the bathroom, Steph bemoaning the fact she had no make-up, hair gel or even underwear. When I grinned wickedly at mention of the latter item, she blushed and I knew she was fully herself again.

I left the room to learn how Booth did in surgery and check on his wife's status, while Steph got the kids ready for the day. Martin Booth was listed as critical, but he had survived surgery, and his arm was reattached with blood circulating through it again. The doctors were hopeful.

His wife was due to be released later in the morning and was desperate to see her children. I helped her as she limped down the hall to the children's room and told her what Stephanie had done to save her husband's life. I also told her Martin had made Steph promise to take care of his kids and she'd kept that promise. The mother was effusive in her praise of Stephanie and the rest of our team that helped get Martin to the ER before he bled out. She also asked me to thank Tank and Hal who'd treated her and her children so kindly at the scene.

The reunion between mother and children completed, I convinced Stephanie to leave the hospital finally. We were still wearing hospital scrubs and Stephanie was barefoot. I, at least, still had my wallet and car keys, but Steph had left her purse in her vehicle, which was now parked at RangeMan.

I held her hand as we walked through the halls passing through the maternity ward, pediatrics and finally the ER. The closer we got to the outside doors, the tighter she squeezed my hand. By the time we made it to the sidewalk outside, tears were coursing down her cheeks.

I led her over to a bench so she could compose herself, plus I was anxious to know what was causing such strong emotion in her. When she realized my intent, she backed up and demanded we leave immediately. Her hands were shaking and she looked angry.

"I hate hospitals," was all she would say to my questions. I found this puzzling because she showed no signs of an aversion when we arrived yesterday and when I wanted to take her home after her panic attack last evening, she refused to leave.

I quickly escorted her to my car, picking her up the last few yards to protect her feet from the rough asphalt. The guys had left my Porsche for me, taking my truck to have it detailed after yesterday's accident. I settled Steph in the passenger side and drove out. The farther away we got from the hospital, the calmer she became.

"Do you want to talk about it?" I asked, reaching for her hand and kissing her palm. I studied her face in profile. She was fighting back tears again and shook her head no.

"Take me home, please," she uttered in a tight voice.

"I don't know where you live, Babe, but I'll take you anywhere you want to go," I told her.

I could have tracked down everything about her…her name, her home address, her entire history…as soon as she purchased her new car, but I had decided then to wait until she was ready for me to know more about her. She was silent for several minutes, staring out the side window.

"Stephanie?" I prompted her. She blew out a big puff of air through pursed lips.

"To my second most hated place," she cried, still not looking at me. She gave me general directions to a location on the outskirts of town.

As we passed a busy intersection, she suddenly demanded I stop. I pulled to the curb and she opened the door, putting one foot out. Turning back to me, she asked if she could borrow some money. Curious, but not saying a word I took a twenty-dollar bill from my wallet and gave it to her. She dashed back down the street a hundred feet or so to a street vendor hawking brightly colored flowers in large white buckets. Stephanie returned with an armful of long-stemmed pink carnations.

I continued on course wondering where she was taking us, but didn't ask any more questions. Steph was deep inside herself, but no longer crying. Twenty minutes later, I knew our destination. I braced myself for a difficult time.

Vegas was situated in a desert and most city landscapes were xeriscapes with cactus and gravel. We were approaching a huge expanse of freshly mowed green lawns and beautiful trees. They were a dead giveaway long before the sign confirmed the cemetery's location. We passed under an archway of granite and started the curving drive through row after row of gravesites.

When we reached a rise dotted with oaks, she said, "Here."

I stopped the car. She just sat there, staring out the window.

"Do you want me to go with you?" I asked, wanting to hold her and take her pain into me. I didn't know who was buried here, but I was sure whoever it was held at least some of the answers to why Stephanie held herself back from relationships.

Nodding her head, she whispered, "Yes."

I got out and opened the car door for her. We slowly walked up the low grassy hill toward the copse of trees. When we reached the top I fell back a few steps wanting to give her privacy, but be close enough to support or comfort her if she needed me. It was a beautiful spot and there was a bench off to the side of a well-manicured grave adorned by a small granite headstone. The tombstone read:

_Cadence Anne Morelli_

'_Cady'_

_Beloved Daughter of _

_Stephanie and Joseph Morelli_

_Dec. 5, 1983 – Dec. 7, 1991_

_¡Dios! Her daughter!_ I hadn't expected that. She was only eight years old when she died, twenty years ago. Today would have been her 28th birthday. And Steph's been alone _all that time_? What about this Joseph Morelli? Where was he?

Still clutching the flowers, Stephanie sank to her knees in front of her daughter's grave. I stood off to the side trying to remain unobtrusive but near. She was still as a statue for at least ten minutes, cradling the flowers in her arms.

Slowly she leaned forward and gently placed the carnations up near the headstone. I was surprised when she laid down on top of the grave, lying on her side with her left cheek on the pink blooms. She reached her right hand out and rubbed it back and forth over the close cut blades of grass. Tears fell unchecked, but she wasn't sobbing. She looked fairly calm, but incredibly sad.

When she finally moved, I stepped over and offered to help her up. She took my hand and stood, giving me a small wan smile. Steph walked me over to the bench and we sat side by side, my large hand held between her two much smaller ones.

She began her story, her eyes focused either on her daughter's grave or on the beautiful countryside.

"When Cady was born, my whole world changed. I'd heard all the stories about kids changing your life, but until I experienced it myself I couldn't imagine it." She had a look of undisguised wonder on her face when she mentioned her daughter's name.

I'd seen that same look on all my sisters' faces when they held their newborns. Even my brother was completely in awe when his first child was born. Somehow, I dodged that bullet or that honor, depending on one's perspective. In my youth, I wasn't always adamant about wearing protection, but I was lucky and never got a girl pregnant. I wasn't 'daddy' material in my younger days.

Stephanie continued her story. "When I moved out to Las Vegas with my husband, I lucked into a great job that I never thought I'd give up. I had a degree in business and I'd been a lingerie buyer back home. I guess that qualified me to head up the costume department at Harrah's. I ran the business end, but it gave me the opportunity to work with designers, tailors, fabric dealers and the like, as well as the showgirls themselves. I got to do a little bit of everything. It was exciting, glamorous and incredibly hectic. I absolutely loved it."

Steph cut her eyes to me briefly. She seemed a little embarrassed by her confession. I could imagine her behind the scenes at one of the Vegas shows; I could also see her on stage as one of the showgirls. I squeezed her hand and smiled at her. She looked back to her daughter's grave.

"But then I had Cady and the job paled in comparison." Now she smiled. She was silent for a moment, deep in reflection before she started talking again.

"She was a bright, energetic and extremely headstrong child, but always smiling and laughing. You couldn't spend ten minutes with her without having at least one good belly laugh. I can honestly say she didn't have a grumpy day in her entire life. Each day was an adventure for her and I happily ran myself ragged trying to keep up with her. I thought my life was perfect and then Cady started getting sick." Her face fell.

"I tried to keep working and take care of Cady, but when I realized how much of her life I was missing when I was at work, I couldn't stand it. I finally quit and became a full-time mother. I never regretted it."

"She was four when she was diagnosed with juvenile diabetes. Beyond the need to learn how to give her daily injections of insulin and constant testing of her blood sugars, I knew that was only the beginning. I read up on the disease and realized I had to make drastic changes to our family's lifestyle. I told you I couldn't cook. We'd eat take out and delivery when we didn't go out to restaurants. The only things I kept in the house were cold cereal and milk, and peanut butter and white bread. _And sweets._ Lots and lots of cakes, cookies, chocolate and candy. And ice cream. Some diet for a little girl, let alone one with diabetes."

She was clenching her hands around mine tighter and tighter, obviously upset. Then I saw she was digging her nails into her palm, punishing herself. I moved my hand a bit to hold her fingers so she wouldn't break the skin. She seemed to calm a bit as I stroked her fingers.

"My best friend was a registered dietitian and an excellent cook, so she flew out to Vegas many times and helped me learn not only what to serve my daughter, but also how to prepare it. It took me a long time to perfect my cooking skills, but it was a matter of life or death for Cady…and I am nothing if not determined."

She looked sideways at me and shot me a lopsided grimace. I knew firsthand how stubborn she could be. I gave her a soft smile back and squeezed her hand.

"Everything went well for several years. There were no warning signs. The weekend it happened I'd flown home to my parents to attend my grandfather's funeral. My family lives back east. My husband was working on a time-sensitive criminal case and Cady had a dance recital. Neither had ever met my grandfather, so I went to the funeral by myself."

Stephanie's eyes filled with tears and her face contorted with the pain of her memories. I wanted to take her in my arms, but I remembered what she'd said a while ago about not being able to remain strong when offered sympathy and I knew she wanted to finish her story. I ran my thumb over the back of her hand trying to let her know I was there for her. After a ragged breath or two, Steph continued.

"Cady was really excited about her dance performance and spent the day practicing her routine. She was a determined little girl and quite driven about some things. Joe and I could talk to her until we were blue in the face, but if it was something Cady wanted to do, she'd find a way to do it. I think she got that from me. She probably didn't eat or drink that day as she normally would. Her recital went well. When Joe put her to bed that night, her sugars were in the normal range, but sometime during the night things went haywire."

Steph's chest rose and fell with the effort of trying to get enough air into her lungs as emotion threatened to overwhelm her. I rarely let my emotions affect my outer demeanor, but sitting next to Stephanie as she openly experienced each painful feeling, I had to fight my own impulse to hold her. When she spoke again, her voice was hoarse and choked with emotion.

"Joe…he found her unconscious the next morning and…he immediately rushed her to the hospital. I spent the next ten days glued to her side, never leaving her room. Cady was in what the doctors called an 'awake' coma. She didn't move, but she 'looked' fine. The doctors admitted they could do nothing for her, but they wouldn't let me bring her home." That would explain why Steph hated hospitals so much.

In a rush, she elaborated, "I refused to believe she wouldn't wake up. She'd been so excited about her eighth birthday. We were going to let her pick out a puppy at the pound. I decorated her hospital room in pink balloons, pink streamers and lots of pink carnations. Pink was her favorite color. I talked to her, sang to her and read her favorite books to her."

Another ragged breath racked her chest and her hands tightened around mine. I wanted to hold her, but didn't want to pull my hand from hers and interrupt her. She was fixated on the headstone as if her daughter would somehow magically appear. I waited while she calmed down enough to continue. Her breathing finally leveled out a bit.

"The end was surprisingly peaceful. I couldn't cry for weeks and then when I started, I couldn't stop. First I blamed myself, then I blamed Joe, than I laid all my anger on God and the world in general. Joe and I couldn't get over losing our daughter. We divorced two years later. I stayed angry at the world for two more years."

I didn't hear a hint of anger in her voice, only resignation and sadness. I couldn't imagine the pain she suffered losing her only child. The fact that she was able to move on and still show such compassion to others, instead of turning into a bitter, resentful person was a tribute to her strength of character.

She sat still, but her hands fidgeted, rubbing my hand between hers. As if she'd just realized she'd been holding my hand all this time, she released it and dropped her hands to her sides putting her palms down on the bench. She turned her gaze to a point far across the cemetery. I knew how difficult it could be to maintain eye contact with anyone and talk about such things. What she said next surprised me.

"It wasn't until I had a visit from Cady one night that I was able to put aside my anger and find a way to start my life again. She was happy and at peace and I felt her enter me and fill me with her loving spirit. Call it a dream, call it a vision, call it wishful thinking…whatever it was took away my anger and gave me a purpose again…a reason to get up in the morning." Her voice picked up strength and a lightness, more like she usually spoke.

"I started a non-profit to help families affected by this disease and to educate people about diabetes and the importance of good nutrition in its treatment. My two best friends agreed to move out to Las Vegas and help me run the business. It's grown tremendously in the past fifteen years and somewhere along the way I started smiling again. And, in the last four months I've laughed more than ever." She glanced over at me and blushed.

"Cady is still a part of my everyday life. Everyone who comes in contact with our non-profit, in whatever capacity, hears Cady's story. She lives on as long as people know about her and keep her in their hearts."

Steph stood up abruptly and reached out her hands to pull me up with her. I stood and wrapped my arms around her. I was glad she didn't push me away.

I finally spoke. "I don't know what to say. I'm so sorry for your loss. I can't imagine what you went through." In response she slid her arms around my waist, hugging me back.

I rubbed my hands up and down her back trying to convey through touch what I couldn't in words. It was a peaceful place to spend a few minutes in quiet contemplation and it just felt right to let Steph have some down time before moving on.

I bent down and caught her eye. "Thank you for sharing that with me, Babe. I know it was difficult for you to let me in." Glancing over her shoulder, I looked at the headstone again.

"Today's Cady's birthday. Is there anything else you'd like to do to commemorate it?" I asked, not sure how she'd respond. At first, I thought I'd hit too raw a nerve, but then she surprised me, again.

Steph leaned back in my arms and shot me a mischievous look. "One of Cady's favorite things to do was turn somersaults down grassy hills. Are you game?" She danced backward out of my grasp.

I chuckled as she skipped over to the top of the hill and did a cartwheel. A shit-eating grin spread across my face when she followed that with a series of somersaults landing spread-eagled at the bottom of the hill. She wasn't very graceful, but she was sure having fun. She was laughing hard and I started walking down the slope to her.

She sat up and yelled, "No fair. You have to do at least one somersault. It's the rule."

_Fuck!_ If any of my men saw me, I'd never live it down. Fifty-year old men _did not do_ somersaults. Army Rangers _did not do_ somersaults. I looked down the hill at her, her face shining up at me and heard her infectious laugh. _What the hell!_

I raised both arms over my head and did a quick cartwheel. I had a brief sense of unease, but I quickly continued and ended in a deep tuck and roll maneuver they teach in all martial arts classes. When I reached the bottom of the hill, I flipped upright and offered her my hand. Her mouth was wide open.

I placed my finger under her chin and closed it. "Gotta watch out for flies, Babe." I couldn't resist a full on smile.

As I helped her up, she winced. "I guess my shoulder muscles haven't recovered from straining them yesterday," she said. And then she turned her beautiful smile on me.

"That was incredible. I wasn't sure a badass like yourself would remember how to be a kid."

"Babe, I don't think I did those even as a kid. What you just saw was basic martial arts training. Every Army Ranger learns those moves."

"Yeah…right. You, my dear Ranger, are entirely too serious. You need someone like me in your life to spice things up. You're going to be my newest challenge. An hour of play, everyday, _mi Carlito!_"

Before I met Stephanie, _mi Estefania_, I would have rolled my eyes at such a statement. Now, I was looking forward to her attempts to get me to play. There were some forms of 'play' I would be only too happy to do with her.

"I didn't know you spoke Spanish, Steph," I said.

She laughed. "I don't. Since moving out west, I've picked up a few phrases, but I can't understand it if someone is speaking it. I can say hello, good day and thank you, but that's about it. Plus, I know a few food terms, but speak it…hardly."

I tried an experiment. "Eres tan hermosa. Ha lanzado un hechizo sobre mí. No puedo resistirme a besarte. [_You are so beautiful. You've cast a spell over me. I can't resist kissing you._]

Her face was shining up at me, listening to the sound of my voice as I confided my feelings to her. She didn't pull away. I chanced a kiss. _Wrong move!_ She stepped back and her expression turned serious.

"I think it's time for me to go home." She walked briskly toward the car. I caught up and held the door for her.

"_As you wish_," I bowed in a courtly fashion, saying a line I'd heard her use in the fairy tale she told the Booth kids last night. I got a slap on my arm for my impudence, but when she looked up at me through her eyelashes, her blue eyes were sparkling.

"Where to, Princess Stephanie?" I asked. That got a full on smile from her. I was making progress. She told me her home address and we drove in comfortable silence. I wanted to hold her hand, but she held hers tightly together in her lap. When we got to her house I was hoping for an invite in, but she thanked me in a rush and ran inside.

I noticed she walked right in without using a key. Her front door wasn't locked. That would have to change. As I drove away, I called the office and asked that Stephanie's car be brought to her home.

It had been a promising day with Stephanie. The only thing that marred it was when I got back to my apartment and changed clothes, I found a small unexplained hole in the side of the hospital scrub top I was wearing. I knew it hadn't been there when I slipped it on the day before.

Thinking back over my actions the only thing that triggered a question in my mind was an odd sound I thought I heard when I started my cartwheel and rolls down the hill at the cemetery. That sound could have been a rifle shot, but from a considerable distance away. I'd heard that sound hundreds of times, but was not expecting to hear it in a cemetery in Las Vegas, Nevada.

Unable to dismiss it, I drove back out to the cemetery that afternoon. The flowers Steph had laid on her daughter's grave were gone and in their place was a small vase filled with miniature pink roses.

I searched the tree trunks on the hill behind the gravesite hoping for any sign of bullet remnants, but found nothing. Assessing the possible lines of fire, I searched a nearby hill across from the one Steph and I had been at. I found an area of trampled grass and a discarded cupcake wrapper, but nothing else that proved a sniper had been there. I returned home, but my mind was busy processing information and possibilities.


	17. Chapter 17 Operation Santa's Helper

**Chapter 17—Operation Santa's Helper**

Stephanie's POV 

I didn't relax until the door closed behind me. I was finally home. _Alone!_

Being alone was my refuge, my safe place. The walls I'd built around my heart were strong, a fortress, in fact. But there was no danger of pain, of heartbreak, when I was alone. The wonderful man I'd just left sitting in his car in my driveway brought that danger back into my life. But he also brought unbelievable joy and excitement. And the possibility of love!

It wasn't that I hadn't had any love in my life since Joe and Cady. I had wonderful friends, parents and a grandmother, all who I knew loved me. And I loved my life the past fifteen years. Building CadyCakes from scratch with Mary Lou and Krishna had been rewarding and challenging and allowed me to use my business degree and my creativity.

But if I didn't do something to stop it, my world was about to change and it scared me. Hell, it petrified me! The past fifteen years had been relatively serene. The past four months had been exciting and the last two days had been heaven and hell combined. Life certainly wasn't dull with Carlos around.

Carlos was an amazing man. I'd never met any man so supportive, so calm and so surprising. His reactions to things awed me. He laughed when I sprayed him with paint. He allowed me into his secure company each week bringing food to his employees and he knew virtually nothing about me, not even my name. He took care of me when I had my panic attack and was respectful of my unclothed state. He spent all night with me caring for the Booth children when it was obvious he was uncomfortable around kids. And he just somersaulted down a hill for me. Tell me, what kind of man did all that?

I'd be a fool to keep pushing him away.

Unfortunately, my mother had told me repeatedly what a foolish girl and then what a foolish woman I was. She'd never approved of any of my choices in life, but when I allowed her to choose for me, I was miserable…witness my fiasco of a marriage to Dickie Orr.

When I first started dating Joe she hated him, but the minute we broke up (which we did several times) she did everything in her power to get us back together telling me Joe was my last hope for a good Catholic marriage. I was in my mid-twenties for gosh sakes!

I finally succumbed and Joe and I had a reasonably happy marriage though we fought like cats and dogs. My mother had argued against us moving to Las Vegas, but Joe had been offered a great job with the Las Vegas Police Department. At least something good came from our marriage. Cady would always be my one shining success, even if I only had her for eight brief years.

I missed some things about Trenton, but I flourished here in Las Vegas on my own. And when Mary Lou and Krishna moved out to help me to start up CadyCakes, it truly became my home. I loved living in a big city in the West. You could lose yourself and not everyone knew your business or each time you screwed up.

Then a tall, dark and handsome Cuban walked into my life. I'd always fought my Hungarian hormones when it came to men. I felt they'd led me astray too many times. But with Carlos they were screaming so loudly I could hear nothing else. Unfortunately, my heart was screaming the same tune, _'Hold on to me and never let me go!'_ like the Nickleback's classic 'Far Away.' I felt a rush of heat whenever I thought of Carlos kissing me, touching me. It was only the voice in my head that shouted, '_Danger! Will Robinson.'_ That was my problem: I had warring body parts.

I wanted to tell my head to go take a flying leap and then leap into Carlos' arms, but knew my impulsive tendencies usually got me into trouble so I decided to go slow instead. Now I just had to tell my hormones and heart to chill out while my head figured out my next move.

Carlos called that evening and asked to come over. I begged off, pleading exhaustion. He asked if he could see me after work tomorrow. I begged off again. In a firm voice that brooked no questions, I told him I would see him Thursday at RangeMan. And then I cried myself to sleep.

0o0o0o0o0o0o

The next couple of weeks were confusing, at best. As much as I told myself to go slow and avoid being alone with Carlos, I couldn't stop thinking of him. I dove into my work during the week and spent my weekends visiting businesses seeking new donors for Cady's Kids. But the high point of each week remained the hour and a half I spent each Thursday at RangeMan.

The guys really began to open up to me. I guess they felt more of a kinship with me now after my physical 'performance' at the accident scene. All the guys praised my actions and I, in turn, was amazed at their diverse abilities. Together they were capable of taking over a third world country.

But I was more interested in their private lives. I finally took several of the guys up on a tour of the RangeMan facilities. Spending time alone with each of them encouraged confidences. I learned Vince, Ram and Cal had each been married, Cal twice. Hector confided in me that he once belonged to a Latino gang and had participated in several deadly gang wars. His family accepted all that, but when he told them he was gay, they disowned him. Woody had once been a country western singer. And Tank had a degree in architecture.

Best of all, they stopped breaking out in a sweat when I got too close to them. Even Hal was fairly calm around me. Ranger, on the other hand, seemed more distant, probably as a result of me holding him at arm's length. He gave me the space I asked for, but he was extremely quiet and withdrawn during our lunches. As much I tried not to, I couldn't stop glancing over at him wondering what was going through his mind. I caught him staring at me several times, the look in his eyes sending heat straight to my nether regions. You'd think I'd eventually build up an immunity to him.

I found I really missed him and our conversations. I was beginning to think I was going too slowly with him, but whenever I thought about letting him in all the way, I started to panic. I'd made so many bad decisions in my life when it came to men, I no longer trusted my instincts.

The week before Christmas, the guys at RangeMan invited me to join them for their annual gift buying excursion for the Christmas Angel program. Each guy had selected three 'wish cards' from the mall's Christmas tree and they planned to buy every toy and game the child asked for plus give them a couple sets of clothes. The guys specifically asked for my help in selecting appropriate garments. It sounded like fun and it was for a worthy cause. Also, I couldn't wait to see these macho men pick out little girls' dresses and matching accessories.

The guys now knew my real name, where I lived and they figured out that I owned CadyCakes, but they still called me 'Tiger.' I didn't know how much of my history Carlos had shared with them because these guys didn't talk much, especially about anything personal.

The mall was super crowded with the Christmas rush and kids were standing in line to tell Santa what they wanted. I wasn't sure how the day would go, but I wasn't worried. These guys were like a well-oiled military unit preparing for battle.

After parking the various black SUVs in the mall's underground parking lot, we gathered at the stairwell to go over 'Operation Santa's Helper' one last time. While all thirty RangeMen were participating, a crack team of eight had been enlisted to brave the mall's 'battlefield' and capture the Christmas loot. Lester told me Ranger never participated in the actual shopping, but for some reason, he asked to be on the team this year. That made me happy.

I listened in fascination as they detailed their plan of attack. The week before they'd done mall reconnaissance and had scoped out all the toy stores and children's departments. They'd compared and consolidated the wish lists by type of item and age of the child. They'd worked out their attack strategy for quickly and efficiently 'acquiring' the chosen toys and games and the clothes. They even had a plan of attack for the gift wrapping.

As soon as we entered the mall, the guys synchronized their watches. They divided themselves into four teams of two, each team taking the wish lists for a different age group. They intended to secure all items on their lists within two hours. Two hours for eight men to find the right items, stand in line, pay for everything and get them all gift wrapped. That included multiple items, both toys and clothes, for ninety children. _I had to see this with my own eyes._

I paired up with Carlos and Tank for the first round, which included shopping for clothes for the children under three years of age. My second 'assignment' would be with Lester and Bobby to shop for clothes for those kids ages four through seven, and so on, until we were done. Personally, I planned to be here all day and probably return tomorrow as well. I was realistic.

The guys hit the mall running, marching 'double time' to their respective target locations (and yes, Target was on the list of stores to hit). Carlos and Tank were a bit more restrained, but we still 'marched' at too quick a pace for me. Carlos noticed I was nearly running to keep up and he barked, "Cut the pace." With relief, I slowed up, but soon learned that his order didn't mean slower, it just meant taking shorter strides to match mine. _Sheesh!_

I was swept along between these two determined forces of black-clad shopping machines watching as the frantic hordes of holiday shoppers quickly stepped back and away from us as we marched down aisle after aisle. I wondered if I could convince them to tag along with me for the next big blowout sale at Macy's?

Tank had selected a heavy, metal Tonka tank for the six-month old infant on his list. It took me a while, but I talked him into a soft plush Thomas the Train instead. We were still arguing over toddler clothing choices a half hour later. Carlos and Tank couldn't find anything in black or camo and refused to compromise. So much for Operation Santa's Helper's precision timeline.

We'd just met up with Lester and Bobby near Santa's Village. There were kids shouting and kids crying as they waited in line to sit on the jolly old man's lap. The childish shrieks and wails were clearly getting to Carlos as he pulled us away to a quieter spot. _And then suddenly no spot near Santa's Village was quiet._

A frightened child's scream pierced through the already loud voices of excited children. As one, we all turned to see a man holding a struggling, screaming child near the Santa line. He held the child's face tightly against his chest and was waving a gun around. The man's face was contorted in fear or anger as he spun on his heels and tried to keep everyone in the crowd in sight. He looked wild and out of control. I suspected he was either higher than a kite or in desperate need of a drug fix.

The holiday mob became hysterical as they tried to grab their children and loved ones and flee the immediate area. The screaming was unbelievably earsplitting.

Carlos pulled me to him shielding me with his body as he hurriedly moved me around the corner of a store. "Stay here," he ordered, his eyes piercing mine with an intensity not to be ignored.

As he disappeared back around the corner I saw he had a gun in his hand. Stunned, I realized he'd been walking around the mall all morning with a deadly weapon hidden somewhere on his body. _Was he always armed?_

I couldn't stay still. I peered around the corner to witness the continuing escape of hundreds of frightened shoppers trying to get away from the gunman. I couldn't see Carlos, Tank, Bobby or Lester, but knew they were somewhere close intending to somehow stop the madman.

For an instant, the scattering crowd parted and I got a good look at not only the man, but also the scared little girl clutched to his chest. It felt like a knife blade pierced my heart as I looked into the blue eyes of a little curly-haired girl missing her two front teeth. _**Cady!**_

Without thinking, I ran to the little girl shoving people aside as they rushed past me. The next thing I was aware of I was standing in front of the man and girl as he pointed the gun at my head. Clarity quickly reasserted itself as I stood there realizing my headlong dash now left me totally exposed and in danger. No one else was near us. The little girl was sobbing hysterically and reaching her arms out to me. Of course, I knew she wasn't Cady, but she still needed me.

Speaking calmly, I tried to appeal to the man, "I'm only here for the little girl. You're frightening her. Please, let her go." The madman clutched her tighter to his chest eliciting a shrill shriek from the distraught child. I could see his gun hand was shaking badly and his eyes looked totally black with his pupils fully dilated.

"_Stay back._ Stay away from me or _I'll shoot her_," he cried, turning the gun on the little girl.

I spread my hands out. "Let her go and take me as your hostage instead. I'm bigger and can shield you from bullets better. There are men right now with their weapons trained on you. I'm your best chance of getting out of this alive." I tried to reason with him, but wasn't sure he was rational enough to listen and then act in a logical manner.

The man looked wildly about him turning this way and that swinging the girl as he rotated. She was kicking and screaming and choking on her sobs. As a mother it was hard to stay calm with a child in such extreme distress just a few feet away.

"Please, sir, put her down and take me. She's just a little girl. She doesn't deserve to be scared like this. What if she was your daughter or your sister?" I pleaded putting as much emotion into my voice as I could.

I stepped closer and touched his arm that held the girl. I must have startled him and he loosened his grip slightly. The little girl struggled and got loose. I pushed her away from us and told her to run as he grabbed me around my waist and pulled me to him. I didn't fight.

The gun was still pointed at my head, only now the barrel was pressed against my temple. My heart was pounding, I felt faint and little black specks were swimming before my eyes. I guess my mother was right. I was a foolish woman and even at fifty years of age, my impulsive tendencies were still getting me into trouble.


	18. Chapter 18 Take Two Pills

**Chapter 18—Take Two Pills and Call Me in the Morning**

Ranger's POV

What should have been a short mission of gift buying and donating to underprivileged children devolved in a matter of minutes into a nightmare. As soon as I saw the man waving a gun, my eyes shot to Tank and a quick nod was all it took. I knew he, Bobby and Lester would work themselves into the best possible position to take the man out if needed. My first priority was to protect Stephanie.

As soon as I had her safely out of the line of fire, I worked my way back up the mall closer to the gunman. He hadn't fired yet, which bode well for the people still trying to get away from the dangerous scene. If he'd been a madman or disgruntled employee seeking to kill as many people as he could, bullets would already have been flying. The closest I could get and still stay under cover was about thirty feet away behind a mall booth filled with candles. I'd already spotted Tank, Bobby and Lester in their secure positions.

In another minute, this area of the mall should be cleared of people except for those hunkered down in adjacent shops. Soon the mall cops and Las Vegas PD would be here. With luck, my men and I would already have the man in custody or taken out by the time law enforcement arrived. It all depended on the actions of the gunman. The longer he had hold of the child, the more risk of her getting hurt. Time was of the essence.

Tank got my attention and we communicated a plan via hand signals. In that split second with my attention focused on Tank, a person ran past the booth I was crouched behind and raced toward the gunman. I whipped my head around.

_Babe!_ _Damn. What the fuck was she doing?_

I immediately moved out intending to grab her or at least put myself between her and the gunman, but she was sprinting as if her life depended on it and was already well ahead of me. She skidded to a halt just a few feet from the gunman.

I stopped too, trying to remain still and go unnoticed. I was now standing next to a low cement structure filled with green plants. I could only see Lester from where I was and he'd also stepped out from his cover. We both froze, hoping not to distract or confuse the man and chance him starting to shoot wildly.

My mind was racing, trying to figure out what had caused her to rush out into the open. What was she thinking? Was she trying to protect me? All I knew is what had once been a straightforward take down now was a personal and dangerous mess. For the first time in all my years of rescuing people, my own emotions snapped into high gear. I could feel my fear for my Babe threatening to overrule my normally well thought out actions. I didn't like the feeling.

I was close enough to hear Steph talking to the man. She was amazingly calm and spoke in a quiet and soothing voice, her posture non-threatening.

I breathed a huge sigh of relief when the little girl got free and Steph touched her. Then groaned as she pushed the girl and told her to run. I watched in dismay as Steph calmly allowed the frantic man to grab her and bring the gun to her head. Fear and rage flooded my senses. It took all my willpower not to rush in and tear him limb from limb. Taking a deep breath, I tried to calm myself.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Bobby scoop up the fleeing girl and run down the mall away from us.

I focused all my attention on the gunman, quieting my mind from the image of what a human head looked like after being shot at such close range. What could I say to him that would make him release Stephanie unharmed? The man finally spotted me.

"Stay back or I'll kill her," he shouted holding the gun barrel against Steph's temple.

For a fraction of a second, I locked eyes with Steph. Instead of the fear I expected to see, her eyes gave me encouragement and her trust. I swear she even managed a small smile. This woman never ceased to amaze me, but her surprising impulsiveness was wreaking havoc with my ability to maintain my calm rational thought. What normally came naturally to me, actually took considerable effort to calm myself and focus on what to do next.

I spread my hands out from my body in a conciliatory gesture.

"I'm going to lower my gun and place it on the ground, okay?" I quietly advised him as I squatted down leaving my gun at my feet. It would be up to Tank and Lester to cover me if things went wrong.

"Don't try anything funny, Mister. I'm in no mood for games." The gunman was still quite agitated, his eyes darting everywhere. I noticed his gun hand was trembling. He was a powder keg ready to go off.

I considered giving the signal to take him out, but something in Steph's calm demeanor held me back. And if I could spare her the experience of having the man's blood and brains splattered all over her, I would. After her ordeal with Martin Booth, another such gruesome incident might be more than she could bear.

"You're obviously upset about something. If you tell me what's wrong, maybe I can help you. My name's Carlos. What's yours?"

The man looked at me like I was crazy. "I'm not falling for that bullshit. I'm tired of being treated like crap. It's about time I did something about it." The man was breathing heavily and was obviously under stress, whether from substance abuse or a mental problem wasn't clear.

"Who's been treating you like crap?" I asked, trying to get some useable information from him.

"_Everybody_. My boss fired me; said I missed too many days from work. Hell, it was his fault I couldn't work. I injured my back because of poor work conditions and now I can't work because of my back spasms." He started waving the gun around again.

"I came to the pharmacy today to get more pain pills and they said my insurance was cancelled. That fucking pharmacist wanted $200 for a handful of pills. I don't have that kind of money. I'm desperate. The pain is driving me crazy. What the fuck am I supposed to do? I'm in pain and I have no fucking money and no fucking job."

The man was getting more agitated the longer he spoke. I needed to calm him down.

"I'll be happy to pay for your pills. If you let go of the lady and put down your gun, we'll go over to the pharmacy and get your pain medication."

"You must think I'm a fucking idiot. Without a gun, you'd just turn me over to the police and then where would I be? In jail, racked with pain…that's where, you fucker."

Slowly, I reached for my wallet and pulled out several hundred-dollar bills. "Here. I'll give you the money for your pills right now, but you have to let the lady go. You can keep your gun."

Walking forward a few feet to a bench next to the planter, I placed the bills face up so he could see the denomination. I backed away, my hands in the air.

I tried to make eye contact with Steph, but she was now focused on the man, talking to him. She was so quiet, I couldn't hear what she was saying, but the man seemed to respond to her. They talked quietly for a minute before they started moving. He was holding Steph very close to him and Steph actually seemed to be placing her body between Lester and him. Even if Lester or Tank tried to take him out, the chances of Steph getting hurt were too great.

As they shuffled forward toward the bench, Stephanie smiled at me. I could understand fear from her, I could even understand a blank face, but a calm reassuring smile from her unnerved me.

The man continued to hold his gun against her head with his other arm wrapped around her waist. She slowly reached for the money and he grabbed it from her, then tightened his grip as they shuffled backwards. He wasn't going to let her go.

I tried another tactic. "Let's go over to the pharmacy now and get this straightened out. You can get your pills and then we can talk about getting you some medical care and a new job. I have a doctor on staff at my company. He'd be glad to exam your back and do whatever it takes to make you better."

Again, Steph talked to him and he nodded. "Back away," he said to me, flicking the gun. I backed up.

They started walking toward the drugstore, which was just across from us. It looked empty, but there could be people crouched down hiding, which wouldn't be good.

"Let me go in first and make sure there aren't any people in there. It'll be safer for everyone if the store is empty," I said.

Steph whispered to him and he waved the gun at me in assent. Somehow, Stephanie had managed to gain the man's trust. I didn't have time to question it now.

I hurried into the drugstore calling out to anyone to leave immediately. The only movement I saw was in the back section where the pharmacy was located. Running back, I shouted out and an elderly man in a white coat popped his head up from behind the counter. Obviously the pharmacist.

"_Is he gone?_" the man asked, fear pouring from him.

"No, and he's coming back. He has the money to pay for his medication and I want you to give it to him." I instructed, fixing him with an intense stare.

"I can't do that. The man's crazy," the pharmacist said. I did not need to deal with an obtuse old man right now.

My patience was at zero and I knew it showed in my face and in my voice. "You WILL give him what he asks for. He won't make it out of here, I guarantee it. But I need for you to give him his pain pills. _Do you understand?_" I said it more as a command than as a request.

Timidly, he nodded. I think he was more afraid of me now than the man with the gun.

I ran back up to the open doorway and motioned to the gunman. "It's all clear."

I backed up into the store, not giving him the opportunity to demand that I leave. As he pulled Steph with him into the drugstore, I turned my back to him and casually walked to the back counter. The pharmacist had disappeared again.

I leaned against the counter and gestured for the man to come closer, telling him, "I explained the situation to the pharmacist and he has your pills ready." I tapped on the counter and saw the gun move from Steph's head to cover me. So far, so good.

"Where's my oxycontin?" the gunman demanded as he and Steph approached. A shaking hand reached up from underneath the counter and dropped a pill bottle. It rolled across the counter and threatened to fall over the edge. The gunman immediately grabbed for the bottle, momentarily freeing Stephanie.

All in one rapid movement, I leaned out and yanked Steph behind me while grabbing his gun hand and thrusting it up over his head. With a hard squeeze to the man's wrist, he cried out in pain and released his grip on the gun. I quickly put him in a head lock and tucked the gun in my waistband.

Amidst his screams and profanity, Lester and Tank burst in guns drawn, with the rest of my men following right behind. They looked extremely disappointed when they saw I already had the man unarmed and relatively subdued.

I pushed the very angry and hunched over man toward Lester and turned to comfort Stephanie. I figured she'd be a bundle of nerves and would soon break down. I was wrong. I found her opening the bottle and shaking out two of the little round green pills. She dashed past me and over to Lester who had a firm hold of the now shaking man.

"Here, take these, Tom. It will make the next few hours easier." She popped the pills into his mouth and tucked the bottle in his shirt pocket. She gave 'Tom' a quick hug and then she took the money from his other pocket. Lester's mouth dropped open when she hugged the gunman.

Walking back to the counter, she laid the money down and shouted down to the cowering pharmacist, "Here's the money for the pills, so you can't claim robbery. And I sincerely hope you won't press charges."

The pharmacist stuck his head up and retorted, "He threatened me. The man's a psycho."

Steph asked, "Did he pull a gun on you?"

"Well, no," he replied. "But he was ranting and raving and said if I didn't give him the oxycontin, he would…"

Steph asked, "He would what?"

The pharmacist hemmed a bit, "Well, he never said, but I thought I was in danger and threatened to call security. That's when he ran out of here."

Steph's entire posture changed. She went from bristling to compassionate. "I know you were frightened, sir. You read such terrible things these days about all the violent behavior from people. You never know whom you can trust."

She leaned forward on the counter and her voice softened even more.

"But this man…his name is Tom…has been through a lot. He lost his job and his health insurance, he's injured and he's in excruciating pain. He's depressed and he just snapped today. He's not a bad man, he's just down on his luck. What he needs now is some compassion."

She laid her hand on top the old man's and stared him straight in his eyes.

"Tom told me as he was leaving your store, a man approached him and offered to sell him pain killers for a bargain price. He paid ten dollars for two pills and took them immediately trying to relieve his back spasms and pain. He said he started feeling strange and disoriented and that's when he snapped. They obviously weren't pain pills. He's not himself and he knows it. He's really sorry for everything that happened."

She turned a bit to look over where Lester and Tank were cuffing the gunman's hands. The man, Tom, was quite a bit calmer now. The oxycontin was doing its job. Steph turned back to the pharmacist.

"I'm not trying to excuse what he did, but things aren't always black and white. Yes, he's going to jail for his actions here, but he's under great stress and needs help, not persecution. I hope you'll remember that when you talk to the police." She pushed the money closer to him.

I could see him relent a little under her gentle pressure. He nodded and placed his other hand on top of hers. They smiled at each other. I just shook my head, wondering how she did it.

The police came rushing in then and after a little confusion as to which of us was the gunman, they took custody of the now quiet man. As I handed over the gun I'd confiscated, I realized it felt light. A quick exam of gun and magazine cartridge showed them both to be empty. The gun wasn't loaded.

We stayed around and gave our statements to the police, with Steph pleading for leniency for Tom. Leave it to Stephanie to be on a first name basis with her armed kidnapper. As they carted him off, Steph promised to be there for him when he went to court. It took several hours until we were able to leave the mall.

My men had waited for us. This was as much action as they seen in the entire last year and they were grinning like fools. We made our way through the returning throng of holiday shoppers to the mall elevators. Lester slipped me my gun. I knew he'd retrieve it. We knew each other too well.

The guys had all heard what Steph had done, exchanging herself for the little girl and keeping the man as calm as possible under the circumstances. They thought she was Supergirl or Wonder Woman. They praised her actions, but she seemed a little confused by all their attention.

While I agreed with them, I also knew we needed to talk. This was her second impulsive action in as many weeks that could have had a disastrous outcome. I didn't know if my heart could take her unpredictability. However, it was becoming obvious that being around her would never be dull and she never disappointed.

As we all walked to the parking garage, she let me put my arm around her shoulders. Standing next to my SUV, I pulled her to me for a brief hug and told her, "Proud of you, Wonder Woman," and kissed the top of her curly head. I was afraid of going too fast and having her pull away again.

She smiled at me and said, "Proud of you, too, Batman." I looked at her quizzically.

"Well, you may not have super powers, but you are a super hero in my book. And you always wear black, like Batman. You saved me today. I knew you would." She reached up and stroked my cheek with her hand.

"Carlos, I didn't mean to get in the middle of things, but the little girl…she looked so much like Cady…I just…I just lost it for a minute. And then, I was there…in the middle of it. The little girl was so frightened. How is she?"

Bobby stepped forward. "She's fine; she's with her family. A little shaken, but she'll have an exciting story to tell for years to come. You saved her from what could have been a much more harrowing experience, especially if we'd had to shoot the man." Steph winced at that last comment.

She squeezed Booby's forearm. "I know you guys have done things like this before, but it was my first, and I hope my last. I can't tell you how much I appreciate what you do."

Steph turned to look at Tank and Lester and the other men standing around us. "I was a basket case. I don't how you guys stay so calm in the face of danger and do it willingly. You didn't have to get involved today, but you all just jumped in and handled it. You guys are incredibly brave. I'm so proud of all of you."

The guys mumbled humble phrases like 'it was nothing' and 'all in a day's work', but they also looked like their heads were swelled. Steph had deflected all attention away from her own heroic actions.

The guys started to drift toward their own vehicles, but Tank made one last comment. He chucked his big knuckle under Steph's chin and admonished her.

"Stephanie, I know you just wanted to protect that little girl today, but this was an extremely dangerous situation. We're trained to deal with situations like this. Next time, you really need to let us handle it."

I felt her stiffen up and saw her jaw clench. Was she going to let Tank have it?

Again, she surprised me. "You're right, Tank. It was a foolish thing to do. And, there'll be no _next time_. What are the chances I'm going to run into a hostage situation again? The day ended well. Let's forget about it, OK?" I, for one, would never be able to forget it.

We were alone as the men piled into their SUVs. Tank had said what I'd planned to confront her with, and she'd reacted better than I thought she would. Now was not the time to try to explain to her how she nearly got herself killed. But I still couldn't get the image of a gun against her beautiful face.

I couldn't say what I wanted to say to her in English…not yet. My voice was soft and low, but my fear for her came through in my words. "Casi me dio un ataque al corazón. ¿Qué te hizo hacer eso, Estefania? Tú podría haber sido muertos. Yo no podía soportar eso. ¿Quiere decir mucho para mí. Y no puedo evitar la sensación de que aún te encuentras en peligro." [_You nearly gave me a heart attack. What made you do that, Stephanie? You could have been killed. I couldn't bear that. You mean too much to me. And I can't shake the feeling that you are still in danger.]_

I hugged her to me once more holding her for several moments, before opening her car door. I got a huge smile from her as she jumped into the passenger seat. I shut her door, but had a hard time leaving her side. She seemed fine, without a trace of fear or adrenaline let down. I hope she wasn't getting used to the adrenaline rush. I knew it could be addictive.

She was so cute. I leaned in the window and gave her a quick kiss. As I pulled away, she leaned forward and kissed me back. Without even thinking, I put both hands through the open window and pulled her halfway out, kissing her hard. The thought that I almost lost her today was driving my passionate impulse. It thrilled me that she gave back every bit of passion in her kiss to me. She was blushing when she sat back and smoothed her rumpled clothes.

I had a spring in my step as I walked around to the driver's side. Sometimes, fear can be a great motivator. We were still going to talk about her impulsive behavior, though.


	19. Chapter 19 Cupcake

**Chapter 19—Cupcake**

Stephanie's POV

Over the last week, all of the day shift from RangeMan and several guys from the night shifts too, had stopped in, curious, I think, about CadyCakes and the diner. Each man who came in, when he noticed the portrait of Cady, got quiet and serious. Most of the guys had no idea what to say to me and ignored the whole thing. A few of the guys told me how sorry they were for my loss. Lester was so sweet. He told me how beautiful she was and that she looked just like her mother. Always the flatterer.

The first time he visited the diner, Carlos spent a lot of time studying Cady's two portraits that hung in the shops. When I finally had a minute to join him at his booth, he asked me questions about Cady. Just general interest questions, but it made me feel good that he brought her up. I loved talking about her; it always made me feel closer to her. He also asked questions about our non-profit organization and the programs we ran. It was nice to finally share that part of my life with him.

I'd had to keep a low profile the week after the mall incident. News reporters kept showing up at CadyCakes to interview me regarding my role in the whole thing, but I refused to talk to any of them. I had no interest in being in the limelight. They were becoming disruptive to our customers.

When two black SUVs pulled into our parking lot and six large men with black RangeMan t-shirts got out, I relaxed. Within minutes, Carlos and the guys had all television and newspaper crews off the property.

After they 'removed' all the media from the premises, I made sure all the guys came in and ate a great meal, complete with their favorite cupcakes. Even Carlos ate one, sans frosting. He asked me about the cupcake papers we used. I told him they were a special order made from recycled materials. He pocketed the used wrapper, which I considered a little strange.

Mary Lou and Krishna came out for a few minutes to meet the guys, and especially to meet Carlos. Krishna was disappointed Tank wasn't with them, but the guys were really looking her over, so I knew Tank had been talking about her. I got the impression both my girlfriends approved of my Cuban hottie.

The guys were getting ready to leave and when I mentioned I couldn't wait to make Christmas dinner for them next week, Carlos informed me he'd hired a caterer to give me the day off. I'm sure he thought he was doing me a favor, but I couldn't hide my disappointment. I made some lame excuse and left the table, fleeing into the kitchen.

I'd already planned the menu and bought most of the ingredients. Only a few of the guys planned to visit family over the holidays. I wanted to make sure those that had to work could look forward to something special. I knew the caterer's food would be good, but cooking was to be my gift to them. Taking a deep breath, I composed my face and reentered the diner the same time Carlos was coming into the kitchen. Backing up, I let him into the noisy, crowded space.

Unable to stand still or look at him, I started wrapping red and green napkins around clusters of silverware waiting for him to say something. Carlos placed his hand over mine, putting a stop to my fidgeting.

"Babe, I just cancelled the caterer. The guys said they'd much rather have _you_ make them Christmas dinner. I'd rather have you make us dinner, too. I just thought…"

A feeling of joy surged through me and I impulsively hugged him, a huge smile stretching my face. He didn't let me pull away…he just held me. I'd never felt so safe and wanted as I did in Carlos' arms. I closed my eyes and luxuriated in the warm feeling. We stood together arms around each other, my face pressed up against his sculpted chest, until one of the waiters cleared his throat. He needed to get to the silverware.

We went back out into the diner. I thanked the guys for handling the reporters and told them to bring their appetites on Christmas Day.

I walked Carlos out to his vehicle and we talked for a short while until the rest of his men had driven out of the parking lot. Then I kissed him goodbye. It was a sweet lingering kiss that didn't break up until a couple of Cady's Kids drove up and wolf whistled at us.

After they all left, my best friends told me what they thought of Carlos. Mare said he was drop dead gorgeous and his handshake felt more like a caress. She did the double-handed face fanning women do when turned on by a hot guy. You'd think we'd be beyond that at our age, but something about Carlos brought it out. Anyway, she told me I was a fool if I let him get away.

Krishna liked him too, and thought we made an attractive couple. _Couple?_ That was a bit premature. She told me Carlos was a fine looking man, but he took a back seat to Tank. She seemed to really be taken with my buddy. I was happy for them; they both deserved a little happiness.

Krishna and I were still talking about what our respective futures might hold with the new men in our lives when my past came walking into the diner. I hadn't seen him in a decade or more, but he looked good. _Damn good!_

He had a little silver showing at his temples and some gray lightly flecked throughout his dark wavy hair. His movie star good looks were still there, maybe a little more 'ruggedly' handsome. He still had a lean hard body and incredible sex appeal. Even after all these years, I felt a tug on my heartstrings. We didn't get a divorce because we no longer loved each other; we separated because we couldn't bear the pain of being reminded of what we both lost.

"Steph." He just stared at me.

"Joe." I stared back.

Still staring, he said, "You look wonderful."

I told him, "You haven't changed a bit. I like the silver at your temples. Very distinguished looking."

He smiled, a little embarrassed. I felt the urge to run my fingers through his hair. I was glad there was a counter between us.

He looked around the diner, his gaze lingering on the large photo of Cady. When he turned back there was concern in his eyes. "How are you doing, Steph, really?"

I looked over at Cady, with her toothless grin and couldn't help but smile. "I'm doing good. How about you?"

"Good. I see business is booming. You've done well," he said, his voice sounded genuinely pleased for me.

"Thank you. It's been a challenge at times, but worth it. I heard you moved back to Trenton?"

Joe nodded. "Yeah. About ten years ago. Vegas just didn't seem like home anymore." He kept staring at me. I finally had to look away.

"Have you eaten?" I asked. "Tonight's special is vegetable lasagna. I think you'd like it. I was just getting ready to take a break and have some dinner myself."

"That'd be nice," he said. I asked one of our waiters to bring us two dinners.

Joe waited for me to step around the counter and then put his hand on the small of my back as we walked over to an empty booth. I yearned to hug him, more for comfort than anything else, but held back. We sat across from each other, not talking, just staring and taking in the small changes time had forced upon us.

He had more lines around his eyes and his face was more angular, but everything else about him was achingly familiar. I knew if I stroked his cheek, the hard stubble would be like sandpaper against my fingers. I knew if I pressed my lips to his, his tongue would soon dart against my lips waiting for me to allow him in. I could imagine the feel of his hands on me, his hot breath on my neck, the roll of his hips as he entered me. _Oh Steph, snap out of it._

Our dinners came and we dug in, grateful for the diversion.

"This is delicious, Steph. If you hadn't told me there was no meat in this, I'd never have known." Like me, Joe had had a hard time at first with the change in our eating habits after Cady had been diagnosed with diabetes, but we both soon learned to like lots of vegetables.

We talked about the diner and CadyCakes. I brought him up to speed on Mary Lou and Krishna's lives. My personal life had been pretty boring the past fifteen years so that took maybe thirty seconds to recount.

Joe told me when he moved back to Trenton he took a job with the New Jersey Department of Law and Public Safety. He was still a detective. For the first time in his career, he'd had to work with a partner. He said he hated it. After years of looking the other way for minor infractions, Joe said he eventually had to turn his partner in for taking 'bribes' from some of the businessmen they were investigating. He said his testimony put the guy in prison for several years. He also told me he wasn't too popular with the regular force after that.

But just last year, Joe said he'd been promoted to an interstate Gaming Corruption Task Force. He was frequently required to fly to Nevada since many of the same organizations did business in both Atlantic City and Las Vegas.

"So, is this your first official trip back to Vegas?" I asked.

Joe glanced out the window, obviously not wanting to answer that question. He took a sip of water, looked at me then glanced down at the now cleared table.

Finally, "I've made several trips this past year. We're investigating a case that has ties to both AC and Vegas. With my previous work history, I was a natural for this assignment."

I shouldn't have been so shocked. We'd barely spoken to each other since the divorce. There was no reason for him to call or see me anymore, much less stop in if he was in town.

He looked back up at me. "The last time I was here was December 5th. I stopped by the cemetery. Took a bunch of the pink mini roses that Cady loved so much."

He must have visited Cady right after Carlos and I did. I told him, "I appreciate knowing you went out there. The flowers were a nice touch. I took pink carnations."

Joe looked at me a little funny. I couldn't look him in the eye, remembering how much fun the last part of that trip had been with Carlos, somersaults and all.

"I see you were in the news recently," he began. I was grateful for the topic change.

Of course…he used to work for the Las Vegas PD. He would have heard about the mall incident. I waited for the inevitable dressing down.

"Cupcake, what were you thinking?" he exclaimed, exasperation coming through in his voice. I hadn't been called Cupcake in a long time. Joe had always used that term of endearment for me and when Cady was born, he started calling her CadyCakes. So many memories started to well up.

Emotion threatened to choke me. When Joe had walked into the diner so unexpectedly, I'd been remembering the good times. Now, all the bad times came flooding back. I wanted to get away, not talk anymore. My frustration showed in my voice.

"I wasn't thinking. I just reacted. The man was holding a little girl hostage. A little curly-haired, blue-eyed girl. I couldn't just stand there and do nothing." I stared at him, and then looked down at my hands, twisting the napkin over and over.

Joe reached over and took my hands in his. I jumped, startled by his touch.

"Promise me you won't ever do anything like that again?" He gave my hands a gentle squeeze. "I couldn't bear to lose you, too." My eyes shot up to meet his.

His dark eyes were filled with concern. "Steph, I've never stopped thinking of you. I'd like to see you again, next time I'm in town," he asked it more as a question than a statement.

I jerked my head up, not believing what I thought I just heard. "You want to see me? Why?"

"I've missed you. I thought…maybe…we could spend some time together. Get reacquainted. We'd take it slow at first. How 'bout it?"

When he first walked into the diner, I was caught off guard and couldn't help all the old feelings from surfacing, but this…no…I knew we were over. Trying to go backward, to recapture what we had…that would be a big mistake.

"I don't think that's a good idea, Joe."

"We were always good together, Steph. We could be again." He squeezed my hands and looked intensely into my eyes, silently pleading with me.

"I don't think so." I withdrew my hands and dropped them to my lap.

"Why not? I know you haven't been seeing anyone since we divorced. I've kept track of you, Cupcake. And I saw that look you gave me when I came in tonight. You still have feelings for me," he declared.

"What you saw was surprise, nothing more. And yes, it was good seeing you again, but I'm not interested in starting anything new with you. We were over fifteen years ago. Leave it in the past." I slid out from the booth and waited for him to do the same.

He started to take out his wallet. I stopped him. "No need for that. This one's on the house. From Cady." He stared at me, then at Cady's picture.

Before he turned to leave, he handed me his business card. "If you ever need _anything_, please call me."

"Goodbye, Joe. Take care of yourself."

He leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. "Goodbye, Stephanie."

I watched him leave the diner, then I walked briskly back into the kitchen to my office and closed the door. Leaning against it, I waited for the tears to come, but they never did. I had that awful lump in my throat, but no tears. Maybe I was finally over my Morelli fixation.


	20. Chapter 20 Mistletoe and IOUs

**Chapter 20—Mistletoe and IOUs**

Stephanie's POV

Christmas Eve was always spent with Mary Lou and Lenny and their two boys. Well, their 'boys' were now grown men with families of their own. I was their Aunt Steph. I loved watching the little ones unwrap their toys and then have fun playing with the boxes and bows.

On Christmas Day, we always opened Cady's late in the afternoon, but only for a few hours. It gave staff time to spend most of Christmas Day with loved ones, then come into work and serve our customers a special holiday meal with a take home serving for later in the evening. There were too many people living alone without anywhere to go on Christmas and we made sure the diner felt warm and welcoming for the short period we were open. I had to time the RangeMan dinner just right to get everything in that day.

I showed up early to the RangeMan offices Christmas noon with not only the meal, but Christmas decorations, too. I enlisted a few of the guys to put up a small tree, twinkle lights and fresh fragrant spruce garlands around the conference room. I sent the rest of them, including Carlos, out to wait until everything was ready. A festive tablecloth and centerpieces helped set the mood as well as some Christmas music.

Instead of ham or turkey, I'd decided to serve large thick slabs of prime rib with au jus and horseradish. There were no vegetarians at RangeMan. I included all the usual fixings of mashed potatoes and gravy, roasted vegetable medley, Waldorf salad, homemade nutty whole wheat bread, and for dessert warm gingerbread with lemon glaze. There was also a ton of Christmas cookies, candy and my special double chocolate fudge. This was not a meal for diabetics or heart patients. It was a holiday celebration!

To my shock, shy Hal taped up a sprig of mistletoe over the conference room door. He beckoned me over and took my breath away with his impressive 'dip me' kiss. He got a standing ovation for his efforts, though he blushed furiously. After that, not one man missed the opportunity to kiss me under the mistletoe. I was so surprised at the positive change in most of the men I gladly allowed the quick pecks the guys gave me as they entered the now festive space. Amazing what a little piece of greenery can do for a man's confidence. Of course, Carlos wasn't in the room when all this was going on.

Carlos was last to enter and he was wearing, of all things, a red flannel hat trimmed with white fluff, very Santa-like. He didn't stop at a quick peck under the mistletoe. Carlos didn't do anything halfway. His kiss definitely got my heart pumping. I thought the guys would tease Carlos, but they pretended to ignore our kiss…out of respect or fear of retaliation, I wasn't sure.

Hal said grace and added a special thanks for bringing me into their lives. The guys added a loud '_Hooah_' to their quiet 'Amen.' That gave me a lump in my throat. And then it was time to dig into our Christmas feast.

The guys loved the 'manly' menu and the prime rib. Even Hal was happy after I gave him the crusty end piece instead of one of the rarer cuts of beef. Carlos surprised me by helping himself to a little bit of everything. I guess even temples need to indulge every now and then.

After that, the room got a little raucous as the guys got into one of their one-upmanship moods. I thought I'd heard all sorts of off-color jokes and stories, but the men were in rare form and had me blushing numerous times. I was used to my family holidays or ones with Joe's loud Italian family where there was lots of arguing, hurt feelings and even outright fights (Joe, his brother and cousins), but this celebration was actually fun all the way through.

After dessert, Ram and Woody hauled me up to the front and we sang several carols together. They had magnificent voices. Woody's stuttering had disappeared completely.

After the dinner dishes were cleared from the table and the leftovers stored in the office refrigerator, everyone took their seats again. Carlos made a brief speech about how well RangeMan was doing, detailing this year's successes and each man's specific contributions. I was impressed and realized just what a diverse and accomplished group of men they were, so much more than just a bunch of muscle-bound bounty hunters.

Then Carlos doffed his Santa hat and took a stash of white envelopes out of it and passed them out. The envelopes contained Christmas bonuses. By the pleased expressions on everyone's faces, the bonuses were substantial.

The guys then turned from Ranger to me, smiles on all their faces. I couldn't help it; my heart started beating a little faster. They were up to something. Tank was first. He walked up and placed in my hand a small white envelope tied with a red ribbon. Then he leaned down and kissed me on my cheek, whispering in my ear, "Merry Christmas, Steph."

One by one, each man walked up and gave me an envelope just like Tank's, and each man placed a second peck on my cheek. I was surprised, not expecting anything from the guys.

I opened Tank's envelope first. Inside was a handwritten IOU for one day of his time with suggestions on what he could do for me. One of his suggestions included helping me with my business tax forms since he'd become an expert doing RangeMan's taxes.

Each envelope contained the same type of IOU card. The offers of time were based on their skills or interest levels, including painting a room in my house, digging up and planting my garden beds, doing odd repair jobs around the house, changing the oil for my car, or taking me to a museum or concert.

Each card was so personal and thoughtful and so unexpected, tears flowed down my cheeks as I read each one. I found the older I got, the easier my tears came. I could tell the guys were uncomfortable with my obvious show of emotion. They could no longer look me in the eye and they were fidgeting.

Hal, though, interpreted my tears as something else entirely. He rushed over to me and crouched next to my chair. "Tiger, I'm sorry about the _cheap_ gifts. I knew this was a stupid idea. We have a real gift for you. Please don't cry."

Feeling incredibly touched by their unique gifts and then thinking how ludicrous that I could _ever_ be disappointed by them, I laughed out loud not realizing he was serious. The look on his face was one of shock. I grabbed Hal's huge hands in mine and hurriedly explained that the IOUs were the nicest, most thoughtful gifts anyone had ever given me.

"I love these gifts more than I could ever express in words. My tears are _happy_ ones. Saying thank you is so inadequate." I clutched the cards to my chest and started laughing, which really surprised them. "I can't wait to cash in these babies," I said, a mischievous grin on my face.

My easy transition between tears and laughter brought a look of confusion to most of them. I hugged Hal and then each of the guys, joking about the type of service each could perform for me. Believe me, my mind was racing overtime with a few fantasies as I hugged each hard body, but I kept those to myself. At least I hope I did. This was definitely not the time to let my private thoughts spill out.

Ranger stood and the room got quiet. He held out a small beautifully wrapped box to me. "If you liked those IOUs so much, I hope you won't think this is a trite gift." Our hands touched briefly as I accepted the present.

He smiled, "It's a gift from all of us at RangeMan. All the guys had a say in how it turned out."

I hadn't expected anything today and I was quickly feeling overwhelmed. With trembling hands, I carefully unwrapped the present. It was a small jewelry box and inside, nestled on a velvet cushion, was a beautiful handcrafted white gold open heart pendant. The edges were channel set with a series of graduated black diamonds…_one for each man, I was quickly informed_…the largest representing Ranger, of course. There was one large teardrop in a clear white diamond…_representing me_…dangling in the center of the heart. It was breathtaking!

I knew this beautiful gift cost several thousand dollars, probably more than I owed for Carlos' suit. I'd never been given anything this nice…this personal…before. The gift was emotionally overpowering for me and I was afraid I'd break down in snot-filled sobs, not just a few tears.

I left the necklace on the table and ran out of the room. I fled to the bathroom, leaving the men sitting there with looks of consternation on their faces.

I'd never expected to feel so strongly for a bunch of emotionally repressed, muscle-bound macho men, but I'd come to love each one and to find it was reciprocated was just too much for me.

To my embarrassment, Carlos came into the bathroom as I was pressing a wad of wet paper towels to my now puffy red eyes. I wasn't a pretty crier.

He took my hands away from my face and we stood looking at each other in the mirror. I was a mess. I started to say something and instead, burst out laughing. My emotions were all over the place. Poor Carlos looked so confused.

"I'm so sorry. I always seem to be bursting into tears around you," I apologized. I took a deep breath and calmed myself down.

Leaning my hip against the counter, I looked up at him and said, "I never expected to find a 'family' when I spray painted you and your suit. You all took me by surprise today. I'm overwhelmed by your thoughtfulness and generosity. I love the IOUs and will thoroughly enjoying 'using' them."

I looked down, unable to look him in the eye as I said, "The necklace is absolutely stunning and the design is so beautifully touching, but I can't accept such an expensive gift."

He lifted my chin up until our eyes met. "The gifts were something each man wanted to do for you. You can't know how much your coming here each week and just being yourself has meant to us." His thumb caressed my cheek as he spoke.

"We're not used to letting too many people get close, but we were powerless to stop you. You're a force of nature, Babe. Somehow, you got past our defenses and took up residence in our hearts. You've brought new life to a bunch of world-weary ex-soldiers."

Carlos pulled the necklace from his pocket and gently but firmly insisted on placing it around my neck. He was so close to me, I could smell him. I don't know what he was wearing, but combined with his natural odor it made me want to lick him all over. I know I turned red just thinking about it.

After he finished with the clasp, he said, "All of us went to the jewelers and we 'designed' this necklace right then and there. It was made especially for you according to our specifications. It's a one of a kind creation, just like you. We _want_ you to have it."

I reached up and caressed the precious pendant between my fingers. My eyes filled with tears again, but thankfully there were no ugly sobs or snot dripping from my nose. Carlos pulled me close and rubbed my back. I was more than happy to let him.

He played with my hair, running his fingers through my mess of curls and I was in heaven. While burying his face in my hair, he whispered softly, "Me encanta el pelo rizado. Es suave y sexy y huele tan bien. Tú huele tan bien." [_I love your curly hair. It is soft and sexy and smells so good. You smell so good.]_

Then his voice took on a more urgent, demanding tone. Just the tenor of his voice sent warmth rushing through me. "Quiero hacerte el amor. Quiero besarte…en todas partes. Por favor, Babe, déjame amarte. No me rechazas." [_I want to make love to you. I want to kiss you…everywhere. Please, Babe, let me love you. Don't push me away_.]

I had no idea what he said, but I loved listening to him speak Spanish to me. I wanted him to go on and on.

He shifted his position and I knew what was coming next. My heart was pounding and I knew it was going to be good.

"Le besaré ahora y lo va a ser bueno." Carlos leaned down…


	21. Chapter 21 I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa

**Chapter 21—I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus**

I had no idea what he said, but I loved listening to him speak Spanish to me. I wanted him to go on and on.

He shifted his position and I knew what was coming next. My heart was pounding and I knew it was going to be good.

"Le besaré ahora y lo va a ser bueno." Carlos leaned down… [_I'm going to kiss you now and it's going to be good_.]

Stephanie's POV

Carlos' hands tenderly cupped my face and he bent down and gave me the sweetest, softest kiss. Everything about his kiss was soft and gentle, in contrast to his body pressed against me, which was hard and unyielding. I melted into him keeping my face turned up for more kisses. He obliged willingly.

Each kiss was sweeter than the last. There wasn't any of the urgent mashing of lips or grinding of bodies. This was a heady mix of soft pressure and gentle exploration. I felt like I was floating on a cloud.

As much as I wanted this to go on forever, we were making out in an office restroom and had a roomful of men waiting for us. Regretfully, I let reality take over.

"We should get back. Someone may have to use this room."

"They can hold it or go elsewhere," Carlos growled, and kissed me a little harder, a little more demanding, sending waves of pleasure to my nether regions.

I was so hungry for his kisses I let him continue. I'd never been kissed like that before. He didn't jam his tongue down my throat, but used his lips, teeth and tongue in such a _slow sensuous way_ that I was more aroused than I could ever be with a more forceful approach.

There was a knock on the door and then Lester's voice, "Is everything all right in there?"

"Go away, Santos," Carlos stopped kissing me long enough to yell.

He immediately pulled me tighter to him and renewed his efforts to transform me into a quivering puddle of goo. I felt his hands stroking my back and then they slowly worked their way to my butt cheeks. His movements were soft and gentle and it'd been so long since any man's hands had fondled me, my head was starting to spin. The goo factor was rapidly escalating into hot molten lava as my passion began to awaken. If I stuck my head…or my ass…in a bucket of ice, it would evaporate directly into steam in a matter of seconds.

Taking a deep calming breath, I pulled myself away from him. "If we don't want the guys singing 'I saw Mommy kissing Santa Claus' we should get back to the conference room."

He tried to pull me back into his embrace, but I held firm and turned my back to him and headed for the door.

Carlos reached his arms around me and splayed his hands across my tummy pulling me back against him and stroking my belly. He said something in Spanish and just the passionate tone of his voice had me wet and aching for him.

"Tú me hizo duro como una roca, Babe. Quiero singarle lo mucho que duele." [_You have me hard as a rock, Babe. I want to fuck you so much it hurts._]

The feel of his strong warm hands so close to my pleasure center made me lightheaded. His hot kisses on my neck weren't helping any either. I was rapidly reaching a fever pitch as my body continued to respond to his sensual touch.

Unable to stand it any longer, I whirled around in his arms and crushed my lips and body against his, twining my hands up into his hair knocking off his Santa hat. In amazement, I felt my leg rise up and wrap around his thigh. His hand reached down and brought my leg higher on his hip as our tongues explored each other's mouths. I could feel his erection pressed directly over my clit. His other hand was in my hair, fondling my curls.

I moaned, low and guttural, and bit his lower lip before sucking it into my mouth. Surprising even myself, I grabbed his hard ass and pulled him tight against me. I was rapidly going over the edge of no return when Carlos suddenly stopped.

In a whispered voice, he said, "You're right, Babe. This isn't the time or place for this. But _whenever_ you want to pick up where we left off, just let me know."

He dropped his hands and stepped back. I was left standing there, my body in shock at the loss of his arousing touch.

Grinning, he retrieved his Santa hat and straightened his clothes. I realized he'd pushed me until I couldn't help but respond with passion to him. I'd been pulling away from him for weeks when things got too heated for me and now he was doing it to me. _Score one for Carlos!_

Needless to say, I was frustrated. He waited politely for me to smooth my hair and clothes, but nothing but time would erase my swollen lips and bright red cheeks.

Before we left the restroom, I looked up at him and said, "Just remember, payback's a bitch." He just kept grinning.

Carlos and I returned to the conference room where I tried to act as if nothing had happened. Carlos looked supremely satisfied. Fondling my new diamond-encrusted heart between my fingers, I thanked the guys for my gorgeous necklace and promised them I'd wear it every day.

I had no idea how long Carlos and I had been gone, but I was shocked to see what the guys had gotten into during our absence. They'd found a large box of individually wrapped gifts I'd made for them. I'd forgotten about them in the surprise over their gifts to me.

My heart sank. After the beautiful and generous gifts they'd given me, my small handmade tokens seemed paltry now. I wanted to take them back, but it was too late.

Lester passed my presents around the table, calling out the names on each gift tag. He looked over at me, "Tiger, we didn't expect anything from you. All the love you put into Christmas dinner was more than enough. But thank you. I can't wait to see what you got me." He grinned, reminding me of the little boy just beneath the surface of Lester's very manly body.

I delighted in their child-like behavior, watching them briefly become the little boys they once were. They gleefully passed out the boxes wrapped with red foil paper decorated with green Christmas trees. Using a black ribbon, I'd tied a little green plastic Army man on top of each gift. I laughed as a few of the guys playfully 'shot' each other with the rifles some of the plastic men were holding. Then each man ripped off the wrapping and opened his present.

Each box contained a hand-thrown stoneware mug with an extra-large handle to fit extra-large hands. Each cup was a different shape; all were made oversized to accommodate the copious amounts of coffee they drank each day.

The glaze was an unusual shiny but textured black with rainbow highlights that sparkled when any light hit it. They looked like they were made of fine black opals with fire emanating from within. On the base was etched the date and the name 'Tiger.' Except for Carlos' mug, the name on the bottom of his was 'Babe.'

Inside each mug there was an antique silver spoon and a treat picked especially for each man depending on his tastes, from jalapeño corn nuts to chocolate-covered coffee beans to brandy truffles.

Tank held his up to me, "Look. My hand fits perfectly around the handle. I've never had a cup I could lift this way. And it's _Tank-sized_. Thanks, Steph." He was beaming. The rest of the guys thanked me, each in their own way.

Ram looked at me and said, "These are hand-thrown, aren't they? They're beautiful, Stephanie. I love how you incorporated my name into the design on the handle. You made these yourself?"

I nodded. Each guy inspected the handle on his, a grin forming as he recognized his name within the intricate design.

Cal looked up from the mug he'd been examining, "You made these with your own hands? _Just for us?_"

I looked down at my hands, which were twisting around each other. "I know they're not much, but I wanted you to have something from me that didn't disappear, like my food."

Hal piped up, "I love the food you make for us, but having something from you I can hold each day…it's really special. Thanks, Tiger."

"You're welcome, Hal. But it's just a coffee cup." I shrugged.

Ram continued, "The mugs are beautiful, Stephanie. The glaze is really unusual. I've never seen anything like it." He looked back to me, a question in his eyes. Ram always needed to know all the details about everything.

"I made the glaze myself. I wanted something that was unique, that reminded me of all of you. I added tiny pieces of iridescent glass to the base. When fired at high temperatures, they melt into the stoneware giving that opalized appearance. They're basically black, but in the right light their depth and beauty shines through. I call it _'RangeMan Black'_." That got smiles and chuckles all around.

Lester came over and hugged me. "So, you made these on a pottery wheel? Like Demi Moore in the movie, Ghost?" I nodded, knowing where he was going with this. Leave it to Les to bring sex into coffee mugs.

Lester grinned suggestively, "Any time you want, I'd be willing to come over and play the part of Patrick Swayze and get covered in clay with you."

Even with a scowl from Carlos, that comment caused a round of laughter and additional offers of assistance.

Oh, boy, that conjured up some hot and slippery visions in my perverted little mind, especially after getting so turned on by Carlos' kisses. With all these hard bodies hugging me, I was beginning to feel like a wanton nympho trapped in a nun's body.

Ranger cleared his throat and the room quieted. "These are wonderful, thoughtful and highly usable gifts. And the fact that they're handcrafted makes them even better. But that you made them yourself with special touches for each of us makes them priceless. Tank's morning concoction he calls coffee might actually be palatable in these beautiful vessels. Thank you, Babe."

He leaned in and kissed me, one hand on the small of my back. This time, the guys clapped and cheered, _'Hooah._'


	22. Chapter 22 The Last Wall

**Chapter 22—The Last Wall**

Ranger's POV

Ever since Christmas Day, I couldn't get Stephanie and the kisses we'd shared out of my mind. She was right…I'd kept pushing her with kiss after kiss after caress hoping she'd eventually stop pushing me away. When she not only returned my advances, but became aggressive with her responses, I had a seriously hard time (pun intended) putting on the brakes.

In my mind, I ripped off her panties while she wrapped her long legs around my hips. Then I slammed her against the wall and entered her hot wet pussy, pounding into her until she screamed my name.

In reality, I managed to be the one that took things slow, but it was great to know she wanted me as much as I wanted her. Besides, slow seduction only heightened the experience. When we finally made love it would be well worth the wait.

I knew I was preoccupied with the physical aspect of our relationship, but, _damn_, I hadn't been with a woman since I met Stephanie. I'd been dreaming about her since the first day we met last August, over four months ago.

I also knew this wasn't just a physical attraction for me anymore. I was falling in love with Stephanie. I felt great just being around her. I was relaxed and comfortable in her presence. She was bright, beautiful, caring, funny, intelligent and honest to a fault. She had strong ethics and was a successful businesswoman. And she was incredibly brave! She never ceased to amaze me.

I'd wanted to spend every waking moment with her after Christmas, and if she was ready, every sleeping moment with her as well, but work on both our sides wasn't cooperating. This time of year was a busy one for security firms, with more robberies, break-ins and false alarms. I'd been 'on call' constantly.

Steph said this week she had lots of large cupcake orders for weddings and holiday celebrations and would be working overtime as well. In addition, the week between Christmas and New Year's was a good time to hold volunteer workshops for her non-profit Cady's Kids, as most people had the time off. She and her two partners also had to complete end-of-the-year inventories. So both her days and nights were filled.

The upshot was that I hadn't seen her since Christmas Day. By Wednesday afternoon, I couldn't stand it anymore and drove over to CadyCakes even if I only got to spend a few minutes with Stephanie. I needed to talk to her and tell her how I felt. How could I expect her to open herself to me if I wasn't willing to do the same?

When I pulled up in front of the bakery, Steph was working behind the big glass display case. I stepped out of the Carrera and she looked up, a sweet smile filling her face. She was more beautiful each time I saw her. Her hair was swept back in a loose ponytail and she was wearing a pink CadyCakes t-shirt. She was radiant.

There was no one in the front shop but us so I slipped behind the counter and took her in my arms. "You look good enough to eat," I told her as I nuzzled the soft spot behind her ear.

"Mr. Mañoso, customers aren't allowed behind the counter," she admonished as she leaned back exposing her creamy white throat to my hungry mouth.

I took her open posture as an invitation and kissed my way across her neck and throat ending up in a passionate liplock. Steph gripped my upper arms tightly and kissed me back enthusiastically, sending waves of desire through me. _Dios, what she did to me!_ But I came here to talk about a serious subject, not to lose myself in her soft, enticing, heavenly smelling body.

I kept my arms around her, but leaned back so I could see her face. "Babe, I need to talk with you. Is there somewhere private we could go?" That elicited a scoffing grin from her.

"Talk, huh? You call this talking?" She playfully struggled to get out of my embrace.

She suggested, "If you want to talk, let's take a walk instead. I'm afraid to be behind closed doors with you. I know what your lips and hands can make me do. They should be registered as dangerous weapons." She was grinning so I knew she was just teasing me about our little restroom encounter on Christmas Day.

Still holding her close to me, breathing in her scent, I didn't want to stop kissing her. "On second thought, I don't need to talk that bad. Where's that room with the closed door?" I tried to kiss her again, but she slipped out of my arms.

She stuck her head in through the kitchen door and told someone she was taking a short walk. Then she took my hand and led me to the front door, chuckling as she went. A walk it was then.

We held hands as we strolled down the sidewalk past one nondescript house after another. I didn't know how to start. I'd never had this talk with anyone before. Steph just continued to walk with me, not asking questions or pressuring me.

I took several deep breaths. "Babe, I know our relationship has been nontraditional at best. It started out more as a business arrangement, a debt payment, as you coined it. I tried to keep it professional at first and respect your privacy, but you have to know how attracted I am to you. You accused me once of wanting only your body and _while I do want your body_," I pulled her to me for a quick hug, kissing her on top of her head, "I want the rest of you, too."

I pulled back and gazed into her expressive eyes. She was definitely interested and silently taking in everything I was saying. We continued walking side by side, hand in hand.

"Over the past few months, I've had the rare opportunity to get to know you in a way I never let myself be with a woman. We've become friends, true friends. I wasn't expecting that." I brought her hand up to my lips and kissed her palm.

"You're someone I'd trust not only with my life, but also with my heart. That's a first for me."

I chanced a look at her to see her reaction so far. She was blushing and when she glanced up at me her eyes were wide with questions. I was expecting her to stop me, to tell me she wasn't ready to hear any of this. She didn't say anything, so I kept on with my little speech. I hadn't talked so much about myself since…well, never.

"You're someone I want to spend time with…_please forgive my male-centric thoughts_…not just in bed, but all my time. I like talking with you, hearing your thoughts on subjects. I like teasing you and more surprising, I like you teasing me. I like your sarcastic bent, your wit, your playfulness. I like how I am with you, how I feel about myself when I'm with you. You're good for me." I twined my fingers with hers and brought her hand up to my lips for another kiss.

Continuing, "I've not had the best track record with women and relationships." I paused, gathering my thoughts.

Steph finally commented, "I'd surmised as much. Mine's not too stellar either." She didn't look at me, just kept walking by my side. I assumed she was referring to her divorce.

_Damn!_ This was harder than I thought. I never opened myself up, let alone admitted my flaws to anyone. I didn't fool myself into believing people weren't aware of them, I just refused to talk about them.

"You're the first woman I've wanted a long-term relationship with, one that meant allowing you in to both my mind and heart. Both have been in very dark places, Babe." I wasn't about to go there, but I knew that Steph was perceptive and had an inkling of the type of deadly missions I'd been required to do for our government.

"I used to tell myself I was protecting those I cared about by not letting them get too close. That exposing anyone to my dark side would harm them or burden them unduly. I know now I was protecting myself…from hurt, from rejection," I confessed. "I can be a very selfish man."

When I looked over at her, I was shocked to see her smiling. That wasn't the reaction I'd expected from her after I confided my innermost thoughts.

"Babe?" I stopped and turned her to me.

Her blues eyes were twinkling. "Carlos, you wouldn't be human if you weren't selfish. We all do things for our own selfish motives. I love that you're able to acknowledge it and share yourself with me."

Then she got more serious, "I can't begin to imagine what you went through as an Army Ranger, the horrible things you saw and were required to do. I'm just grateful, as an American, you were willing to serve our country. But I can see the toll it took on you. I only wish there was something I could do to ease your pain."

Again, she amazed me. I thought I hid all that so well and she read me like a book. Our fingers were still linked and she raised my hand to her lips and kissed the inside of my wrist. The gesture seemed more intimate than a kiss on the lips.

She continued speaking, "I also love that you consider me your friend. I've enjoyed getting to know you, seeing past the dark brooding image you are so fond of projecting. The past four months have been life changing for me. I feel like I've been living only half a life…"

"_That's it!_ That's exactly how I feel, but I didn't know how to word it." I ran my hands up and down her arms, then cupped her face feeling her warmth seep into my palms. I felt something inside drop away and it felt good. Like the last wall crumbling.

"When you burst into my life, you cracked open the walls I'd erected a long time ago. Little by little, your spirit…your energy…your love…filled that empty space deep within me. It's as if you had what I needed to be whole. I'm falling for you, Stephanie."

My words didn't have the intended result. I watched as her eyes filled with tears.

"Carlos…I…I…I don't know what to say."

She was having trouble with the simple act of breathing. She obviously wanted to say more, but she kept stopping and swallowing.

I was beginning to panic a little, fearing this wasn't going to go how I'd planned. She dropped her head, either she was overwhelmed by my sudden confession or she was struggling to tell me she didn't feel the same way.

I forced her chin up so I could look into her eyes. _¡Dios, ayúdeme!_ [_God, help me!_] Her eyes were big and blue and swimming in tears, but I couldn't read them.

In a voice barely above a whisper, she said, "No one…(_deep breath_)…no one has ever said anything that beautiful to me." She dropped her head again. When she looked back up, she was trying to smile.

I bent down and brushed my lips across hers. Then unable to resist, I crushed her to me bruising her lips in my need for her. My need to be as close as possible. I pulled back, waiting for her to open her eyes, those blue eyes now dark with desire…desire for me. _¡Dios! Not only did I feel arousal, another emotion filled me…relief. If she had rejected me…_

Before she could respond, I blurted out what was on my mind. "Stephanie, just the thought of losing you sends terror through me. When that gunman took you and held that pistol to your head, I nearly lost control and knew I'd do anything to protect you. _Anything!_" I stared at her, memorizing every detail of her lips, her nose, her eyes.

She stroked my cheek with the back of her fingers. "I'm not going anywhere. And as much as a girl likes to hear her man would do _anything_ for her, I always want you to keep a cool head and don't take foolish chances, you hear me?" She tapped her forefinger on my chest.

"Your man?" I smiled and got one in return. "You realize that makes you _my woman_? ¡Mí mujer! Eres mío!" I said. [_My woman._ _You're mine!_] Just saying those words, even in Spanish, made me feel like a million bucks.

"As long as you never refer to me as 'the little woman,' I'm good with that." She laid both her hands on my chest and we gazed into each other's eyes.

Steph had never come across as meek or timid. My Cuban machismo told me to protect my woman, but my common sense let me know this was a woman capable of holding her own.

"Glad to get that cleared up, Babe. Also, I don't want _you_ taking chances either. That was a foolish move, rushing up to an armed crazed man. I know why you did it, but please, take your own advice next time and let cooler heads prevail. My men and I are trained for situations like that. But having you in danger makes me throw all caution to the wind. I need you safe, Babe."

"I've never felt safer than in your arms, like this." She snuggled closer, laying her cheek against my chest. Having her so close to me, her hands caressing me, triggered feelings that would soon be physically obvious.

A car sped by and I instinctively swung us around so that my body shielded Steph. This was not the place for what I wanted to do next, but it also wasn't the time. When the time came, I intended our first love-making to be slow and long. I wanted to enjoy every minute of it, not be rushed because of work or prior commitments.

As much as I didn't want our time to end, I knew we both needed to return to work. I turned and headed back, my arm around Steph's shoulders.

"One more thing…?" I grinned down at '_my woman_.' "Would you have dinner with me tonight?"

Her face lit up as she slid her arms around my waist. "We're doing inventory and volunteer training tonight, but if we can eat at Cady's, I'm in."

I sighed. She'd be distracted, but it was still time with her. I countered, "You're all mine this weekend, though?"

Desire coursed through me again with the thought of what I had planned for our first real date. I even had the ingredients for breakfast for the next morning waiting in my apartment refrigerator.

She looked scared and happy all at once, but teased, "I think I could squeeze you in for a few hours this coming weekend."

"I like the 'squeeze' part," I said as I tightened my arms around her, "but I need more than a few hours. Friday is New Year's Eve and you have to let me take you out. I want to start the new year with you in my arms."

She tilted her head back and laughed. "I haven't been out on New Year's Eve in years. I'm not much of a partier," she confessed.

"I know just the place. There'll be music and dancing, but it's small and intimate." I said.

"We're not talking about your bedroom, are we?" she quipped, a dubious look shadowing her beautiful face.

I chuckled. "No, but that could be arranged if you want?" I said, hoping against hope.

She grinned, "Let's just stick with a casual date for now."

"I don't consider a date with you casual, Babe. I'm very serious about you, if you haven't figured that out. I want to spend New Year's Day with you, too. And the next day and the next. See a pattern yet?"

It was such an unexpected thrill when she stood on her tiptoes with her hand on the back of my neck pulling my head close to hers for a kiss. Needless to say, I didn't resist. When our lips broke apart, I straightened up lifting her off the ground, her body melded to mine. I loved the feel of her body's soft weight draped on my body. The way she responded to my touch, to my kisses made me want so much more. This going slow was exquisite torture.

I was on top of the world as I walked back through the quiet neighborhood with my arm around Stephanie. That is until we reached CadyCakes and I saw the condition of my Carrera.


	23. Chapter 23 Coinkidink

**Chapter 23—Coinkidink**

_Author's Note: One of the characters introduced in this chapter isn't one of my or JE's making. I borrowed and slightly altered him from a popular television show (actually two shows, one from the 1960s and one on currently). So, in case you recognize him, I wanted to give due credit. _

Stephanie's POV

I was surprised and pleased Carlos came by to see me Wednesday afternoon. He came around the counter and took me in his arms. I didn't resist. I didn't think I was capable of resisting him much longer. I knew I should go slow, but _damn_, he was the sexiest man I'd ever been around.

I knew Carlos had a reputation as a badass, but I'd only seen the kind and gentle side of him. Even during the incident in the mall, he was relatively gentle with Tom and very much in control. But the way his men responded to him indicated great respect and even a certain amount of fear.

Bad boys weren't supposed to be nice or respectable or have kind hearts, but Carlos, aka Ranger, was a successful businessman, he was sweet and thoughtful and he had the hottest body this side of the Mississippi, as long as Joe stayed in Trenton, and even then…maybe. I hadn't seen Carlos totally naked or had any firsthand experience with what that hot body could do…yet. Except for his kisses and caresses. But I was sure Carlos could give Joe a run for his money in that department.

After what Carlos said to me today, that might happen sooner than I expected. He confessed he was falling for me and he said it when we were still vertical. In my limited experience, men only said things like that during sex.

I knew Carlos wasn't accustomed to speaking his feelings, so his telling me what he did today touched me in ways I didn't expect. For one, it showed me the depth of his feelings for me. I'd always had this doubt as to why he was interested in me. Was it just the chase for him…would he lose interest once he 'caught' me?

And second, sharing his feelings with me brought my feelings for him to the forefront, not leaving much room for me to deny them any longer. And it scared the hell out of me! I had dozens of little voices screaming at me, each representing a different insecurity.

Of course, our first serious discussion was rudely ended when we got back and found Carlos' beautiful Porsche trashed by a vandal right in the parking lot of CadyCakes. It appeared someone had taken a tire iron and smashed every window and head and taillight on the car. There were shards of glass and plastic everywhere.

Samantha and Randy, one of our sous chefs, came out to tell us they'd already called the police.

I watched in amazement as Carlos transformed into Ranger-mode as he queried the two about what they saw and heard. He was still completely in control, but there was an undercurrent of anger in his demeanor. The intensity in his stance and voice were startling to observe. With me he was quiet and gentle, even laid back. Now, he was all business, even a little scary.

I imagine this was what he'd been like in his earlier days when he was in the Army and even when he was first starting his business. I knew he could be curt and abrupt with his men, but I guess I 'filtered' what I saw based on my experience with him. Watching him now, I could see how he got his badass image. I was fascinated observing this side of him.

The car had been parked on the far end of the bakery and wasn't visible from anyone sitting in the diner. Samantha had been the waitress on duty. She said she heard a commotion and stepped outside to see a person dressed all in black running around the corner of the building.

Seeing the damage to the car, she ran to the end of the shop hoping to get a better look at the fleeing vandal, but he was nowhere in sight. She raced back to the diner and immediately called 911. Then she and Randy searched all around the outside of the building to see if they could spot anyone or anything of significance. They found nothing.

When Carlos asked her to describe the person, she said her impression was of a tall, muscular man, but his head was covered in a ski mask.

Compared to Carlos' relatively calm demeanor, I was stark raving mad. I wanted to scream or hit somebody, but the guy was long gone. So I just ranted and raved as I paced around the parking lot, complete with a full repertoire of Italian arm gestures. I knew my anger was a mask for my fear.

First and foremost, I was frightened for Samantha, Randy and my patrons. I chastised Samantha for chasing after the man, which elicited an eyebrow lift from Carlos. I assume he was surprised I would jump on her about her impulsive behavior, given my past actions. But what would she have done if she had caught up with him? What if one of my patrons had tried to confront the tire iron wielding vandal? He'd already proven he was violent. I shuddered to even think about it.

And the fact that this happened right in front of CadyCakes was the other scary thing. This was my home, a place where I'd always felt safe and secure. We had families and the elderly coming here. None of them deserved to be subjected to violence.

Carlos appeared calm, as if this happened all the time and was no big deal. He asked my staff a few more questions, carefully looked over the damage to his beautiful car and then called Tank, speaking quietly to him until the police arrived.

I stayed with Samantha and Randy while they gave their statements to the police. Tank arrived with a couple other RangeMan employees to take care of the Porsche when the police were through with it. Carlos told me he would send a crew over to sweep up all the glass and plastic from the parking lot.

Trying to appear as calm as Carlos, I struggled not to fly into rhino rage every time I looked at his destroyed car. When I was angry, my arms flailed about and my voice got shrill…not a pretty sight. I was upset this had happened to Carlos, and especially upset it happened at CadyCakes. With Tank getting his vehicle's tires slashed a few months ago, that was two incidents recently. I knew violence and vandalism happened everywhere, but it seemed to strike closer to home all the time and it frightened me.

Before Carlos left with Tank, he leaned over to give me a quick kiss. I needed to redeem myself after looking like a squeaking windmill. I surprised him by locking my arms behind his neck and kissing him like we were behind closed doors. Before he could return it in kind, I stepped back and shot him a grin, skipping backward toward the diner. I got his full on smile as a reward.

I couldn't believe how good it felt to be able to kiss and tease him, knowing he enjoyed it as much as I did. I was really looking forward to New Year's Eve.

0o0o0o0o0o0o

The guys had asked for tacos for this Thursday's lunch. That was an easy buffet type item. I made both soft and crisp handmade corn tortillas, shredded beef and chicken and refried black beans. There were lots of diced veggies to top everything off, as well as several types of salsa, cheeses and guacamole. I also made a shrimp and fish ceviche.

When the guys told Hal the ceviche was made with raw fish, he refused to even try it. I tried to explain the citric acid cooked the fish chemically, but he stubbornly stuck to the tacos and tostadas. He reminded me of Mary Lou's boys when they were picky five-year olds.

A guest joined us for lunch at the last moment. Carlos introduced him as Ducky, someone he'd met through his government work. All the guys seemed to know him well and treated him like a long lost friend. He was only in town for a few days and was staying in one of the apartments at RangeMan.

Ducky was British, well Scottish actually. He said his name was Donald Mallard, but he'd acquired the nickname Ducky when he was a child. I thought the Brits had a weird sense of humor. Anyone with a 'cute' nickname like that in the neighborhood I grew up in would have been dead meat. Guys' nicknames in the 'Burg were things like _Snake_ and _Loco_, or in Joe's case, _Lizard Tongue_.

Anyway, Ducky was a pure delight. He was quite funny and charming and won me over in the first five minutes we were together. Instead of shaking my hand when we were introduced, he kissed it. He was about twenty years older than me, average height and build and had gray-flecked sandy colored hair and blue eyes.

He reminded me of someone, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it. I tried to picture him much younger with long hair, an enigmatic smile and a dark past. Maybe wearing a black turtleneck? Whatever…I knew there was more to Ducky than met the eye.

He was an inquisitive soul, asking me lots of questions. I felt like we were on a first date and just getting to know each other. I couldn't help myself; I was infatuated with him. I entirely forgot about the rest of the men in the room, including Carlos. Ducky wasn't particularly handsome and his body couldn't compare to any of the RangeMen, but his personality was mesmerizing.

When he asked if I would join him for dinner that night, I turned the tables and asked him to join me instead. I gave him my home address and we agreed on 7:00 p.m. I called Mare and told her she was flying solo at tonight's training session.

Ranger's POV

It was early Thursday morning. I was sitting at my desk still mulling over yesterday's events. My 'walking talk' with Stephanie had gone better than I'd anticipated. She hadn't rebuffed me. She'd called me 'her man,' which was a huge step for her, but she hadn't actually told me how she felt about me. I'd have to continue to exercise patience until she felt more comfortable.

Then there was the matter of my Carrera. Getting it repaired was a pain in the ass, but that was insignificant compared to the danger the vandalism represented. I was convinced it wasn't an act of random violence. But I had so little to go on.

I knew I'd have to talk with Steph about it, but I decided to wait until after tomorrow, New Year's Eve. We were both busy and I didn't want to spoil our first evening together as a couple. I knew the questions I'd have to ask her would upset and scare her.

I saw another side of my Babe, though. Her Italian heritage kicked into high gear yesterday as she let her fear and frustration out. I almost laughed out loud as she strutted around the parking lot, waving her arms and yelling at nobody in particular. I knew she was just letting off steam, but expressing oneself that way was so foreign to me. She was actually kind of cute, but I was glad all that anger wasn't directed at me. The vandal better hope I found him before she did.

The phone rang and I set down my new "RangeMan Black' coffee mug and answered, "Yo."

A British voice responded. "I see your phone etiquette is as abysmal as ever, Ranger."

I grinned, recognizing the voice. Our annual evaluations were coming due, so his call was expected. "Ducky, you old dog, has it been a year already?"

"Yes, my boy, it's that time of year again. I always look forward to getting out of the cold wintry British clime and enjoying a couple of weeks in your warm dry sunshine. I trust everything is well with you?"

"Couldn't be better. When are you coming to Las Vegas? We can set you up in one of our apartments, as usual."

"I would be most grateful for your hospitality. My plane just arrived in your fair city. I was hoping you could pick me up? And maybe persuade Pierre to schedule my interviews beginning first thing tomorrow morning?"

"You're here? In Vegas? I'll come out to get you right away. And Tank will arrange for the interviews. You normally don't come until after the first of the year. Any reason for the change?"

"As a matter of fact, there is. All the men turned in their assessments on time this year, without any need for reminders. And, there has been substantial improvement in all of them. I offer my congratulations. It's the first time in years I've seen any appreciable growth in your team."

I wasn't too surprised. I'd seen changes in all the men, including myself, in the last few months. I hadn't expected it to come through on a written evaluation form, though. I imagine Ducky would see even more startling changes when he did the personal interviews.

But Ducky wasn't content with just the one on one talks. He continued, "I look forward to my interviews, but even more, I am anticipating a chance to observe all of you in some social settings. Like joining you for your catered lunch today?"

He caught me off guard with his last statement. I hadn't mentioned Stephanie directly in any of my reports to him, rather just a brief mention of someone bringing in an occasional meal for the men.

He could fault me for not explaining her full interaction with my men and me, but I just couldn't bring myself to make Steph part of our PTSD evaluation. She'd guarded her privacy for so long, I didn't want to violate her trust. Ducky must have found out about her from some of the other men's reports.

"Of course, Ducky, you're welcome to eat with us today. And I'm sure the guys would be happy to take you on a tour of the casinos, or to see a Vegas show or if you want a quieter outing, to a local 'pub' for a pint of ale." I knew Ducky loved American beers and he'd prefer an opportunity to watch the men's informal interactions with each other as well as with civilians.

"Sounds lovely. I'll see you soon." Ducky disconnected.

I told Tank I was going to get Ducky at the airport and for him to schedule the men's interviews.

I wanted to tell Stephanie about my participation in the PTSD study before she met Ducky, but with him surprising me like this there wasn't time.

When I picked up Ducky, I explained that, but he said for this first lunch, he preferred she be unaware of his position. He said he wanted to observe her interactions with the men without her having any preconceived ideas on how she should act or behave. He promised he'd tell her his connection to all of us after lunch. I hated not being upfront with Steph, but Ducky was adamant.

Lunch was not an enjoyable affair, at least for me. I felt like I was lying to Stephanie by remaining silent. She, however, was her usual charming, funny self and soon everyone was laughing and having a great time.

I watched as Ducky's sharp eyes didn't miss a thing. He saw the men in a new relaxed attitude around an 'outsider.' I could see him taking mental notes as the guys talked to and teased Stephanie and she joked and bantered right back. There was a lot of touching and playful slaps, which was Steph's natural manner.

She surprised even me when she sat on Hal's lap trying to coax him to try her delicious shrimp ceviche. When Hal put his arm around her waist, I could feel my hackles rise, but I knew this was just her way of putting a very shy man at ease with her. Hal was deathly afraid of most women, but over many months Stephanie had been able to win his trust.

She accepted Ducky as a comrade of ours and immediately embraced him, treating him like a dear friend. He responded in kind. I found myself actually resenting how close they seemed to get in such a short time, thinking back on the months it took me just to find out Stephanie's name. And after lunch was over, Ducky still monopolized Stephanie's time. I had no time to talk with her, let alone hold her.

Then to top it all off, Ducky told me he was having dinner with the 'lovely' Stephanie _at her home_. I hadn't even stepped one foot inside her house yet and here was Ducky, a complete stranger, getting invited to her house for a home-cooked dinner and an evening of 'scintillating' conversation. I wanted to ring his bloody British neck. I tried to invite myself along, saying he needed transportation, but he declined saying he wanted some time alone with the 'charming Stephanie.' He told me it was part of his evaluation process. I ended up giving him the keys to my SUV. _Damn!_

I was tempted to slip a wire onto Ducky, I was that jealous. It wasn't that I thought anything would happen between them, I was simply jealous he got to spend the evening in her company. I wanted, needed, the time with her.

I paced in my office the entire evening waiting for Ducky to return to RangeMan. He hadn't shown by midnight and I was getting concerned, but knew neither Ducky nor Stephanie would appreciate me checking up on them.

When my phone rang at 1:34 a.m., it was Ducky. He'd been in a minor car accident as he drove back to RangeMan and asked if I could pick him up. The Porsche was still at the dealer's, so I grabbed the keys to my truck and met Ducky and the police at the corner of Topaz and Harmon.

Ducky was a little shaken up, but uninjured. He said a car had crossed immediately in front of him, cutting him off and it was either crash into it or try to swerve to the right to avoid it. He swerved and crashed anyway. The vehicle's airbag had exploded when Ducky had run the SUV up onto the sidewalk and into a light pole. The other car never even braked. Ducky couldn't describe it other than it was a large dark car. He didn't see the driver.

I was relieved Ducky was alright, but now two of my vehicles were out of commission. I wanted to believe it was just a rotten coincidence, but I didn't believe in coincidences.


	24. Chapter 24 Ducky

**Chapter 24—Ducky**

Stephanie's POV

Ducky arrived at the house promptly at 7:00 p.m. We ate a leisurely dinner discussing international current events, favorite authors and actors, and what it was like to live in Las Vegas…Sin City. We talked a little about our past histories, but I noticed he kept the details of his life vague. Sort of like Carlos and the rest of the guys at RangeMan.

After dinner we moved to the living room, each with a glass of excellent English wine that Ducky brought. As we both settled onto the couch Ducky said he needed to clarify something.

"My dear, I hope you won't be disappointed in me, but I must tell you about my full relationship with Ranger and his men. _We are friends now_, but it did not start out that way."

I stopped him, "I know Carlos and many of his employees served together in the Army Rangers. I also know they worked for the government in some capacity that Carlos isn't at liberty to discuss. If you were part of that, I understand and you don't need to go into details. It's enough for me that you're their friend now."

Ducky looked uncomfortable. I reached over and squeezed his hand. He placed his hand over mine and smiled at me.

He started, "You are an amazingly trusting and loyal friend, Stephanie. The men at RangeMan have told me good things about you. I can see why they opened up and let you in. They think the world of you, my dear." I was a little confused and a little flattered, but what he said next floored me.

"I also think you're a natural empath with strong nurturing instincts. In case you aren't familiar with it, one definition of empathy is the ability to read and understand people and be in-tune with or resonate with others, voluntarily or involuntarily."

What was he talking about? Well, maybe I could buy the nurturing stuff. Everyone did call me Mom, but that's because I was so bossy. Ducky wasn't done with me yet, to my embarrassment.

"An empath can sense the truth behind one's cover…one's mask… and will act compassionately to help that person express him or herself, making them feel at ease and not so desperately alone. You seem to have this ability to a high degree, especially with the men at RangeMan. That would explain how you were able to win them over so quickly and completely and why they're all a little in love with you."

Now _that_ caught me completely off guard. I set my wine glass on the coffee table and turned to face him more directly.

"They're _not_ all in love with me. That's ridiculous. The guys and I have become friends and I treasure it. But I don't understand. Why are you…"

He held up his hand. "Please, let me explain, my dear. I'm a psychologist. Yes, a shrink," he clarified, seeing my look of surprise. "I study human nature and the subject of innate empathy is one of my personal interests."

"I thought you worked with Carlos and Tank and Les….? You aren't ex-military? But I thought…" I stammered, still confused about his relationship with the guys.

"I do work with your friends and I am ex-military. But there's more. This is what I wanted to tell you this evening, that I am also a researcher. I head up an international consortium of governmental agencies conducting research into the lasting effects of war and violent confrontations on soldiers. It's called post-traumatic stress disorder or PTSD."

"You're a researcher? On post-traumatic stress? I've heard of it. My father told me they called it shell shock or battle fatigue when he was in the military."

"Yes. We've learned a lot about it the last few decades. Over the years, we've completed many studies on PTSD involving soldiers from around the world. But there is one study I have become personally invested in and that is the one involving the ex-soldiers at RangeMan, Inc."

"You're studying Carlos…and Tank and Bobby and Lester and…all of them? They're just objects of study to you?" I know I must have had a horrified look on my face.

"No. No, dear Stephanie. Your Carlos and his comrades are my friends. I did not misrepresent myself or our relationship. I care deeply for these men. This is the only study that has spanned twenty years. During that time, I came to know each man as an individual and we became friends. Sometimes I think the research is incidental to our friendship. But they know the information we gather through this research will help other soldiers avoid the pitfalls they've had to negotiate."

"You've been studying them for _twenty years_?"

"You make it sound like they've been in a fishbowl and I've spent my life peering in at them. The study only involves an annual face to face interview and quarterly written questionnaires. I like to think I have had some small part in your friends healing, enabling them to discuss their fears, their anger, their attempts to adjust to civilian life."

I thought about that and knew if my friends were troubled by their battle experiences, talking to a shrink….a psychologist…could help. "Is Carlos…?"

Ducky shook his head. "While I can't divulge any personal information or confidences, I can answer any questions you may have about PTSD and the effects it can wreak on soldiers well after they have been discharged from military service."

Post-traumatic stress disorder. It made sense…perfect sense. My heart ached for what Carlos must have undergone, mission after mission. And his men! He was the commander and had to give the orders that probably got some of them killed or maimed. I couldn't imagine having to live with the guilt. I was a basket case with the guilt I inflicted on myself when I spoke harshly to a stranger or forgot to send my mother something for Mother's Day.

Well, I knew these guys were reserved and withdrawn, even repressed. Now I had a name for it. I needed to learn more about PTSD, if only to understand my friends better.

"Okay…what can you tell me?" I asked.

"Most soldiers don't like to admit they're having problems. But having post-traumatic stress disorder is nothing to be ashamed of. It has taken a lot of work to not have these soldiers…most are highly masculine men…especially the alpha males such as Ranger, not be further traumatized by the stigma of having PTSD." Ducky was looking intently at me.

I answered his unspoken question. "I can understand that. Carlos is an extremely private person and has a touch of Latin machismo." I grinned at the word 'touch.' Carlos could be the epitome of macho at times. Showing any weakness was not an option.

"Yes, machismo is a good word for it." Ducky grinned back. "Many men who've served in Special Ops, regardless of their country of origin, fear being perceived as weak or 'less than' more than they fear being killed in the line of duty. They fear seeing the look of pity in the eyes of their loved ones. They are supposed to be the protectors, the strong ones people turn to in times of trouble. To exhibit any weakness is an anathema, an ignominy, to them. If they thought the women they cared for deeply saw them as flawed, it would be like stripping them of their manhood."

_Oh my god! Have I ever done that to Carlos? To any of the guys? Did I do that to Carlos when I ignored his order to stay put and then confronted Tom in the mall?_

As if he could read my mind, Ducky said, "I don't think you have to worry about your actions in that department. Quite the opposite, in fact. From my observations today, you have an innate ability to perceive what each man needs and then respond accordingly."

"As I stated earlier, you are a natural empath, Stephanie. You are able to sense what others are feeling and then feel it intensely yourself." He picked up my hand and gave it a small squeeze.

"This ability guides you in your responses, whether to back off or comfort or joke. I imagine you don't even know you are doing it, but the men respond to you beautifully. I can say that I have seen marked improvement in all my 'test subjects' at RangeMan this year. And you, my dear, are the common denominator."

"Me?" I squeaked. "What did I do?"

"You really have no idea, do you?"

"I just made a few lunches…"

Ducky laughed. "Just a few lunches? If your lunch today is any example, that would be plenty. It isn't the food, my dear, it is you, your loving, caring nature. You move among these hardened, bitter and angry men as if they were carefree little boys. You accept them as they are and you _expect_ them to accept you. You act as if…and they respond accordingly."

I was stunned at what he was saying about me and about the guys and had to look away. My hand came up to my mouth and I say there for a few moments not saying anything.

Ducky got up and walked to the kitchen to get the bottle of wine. After refilling both our glasses, he brought up something that had happened earlier at lunch.

"Today, there was one of the men who withdrew when you approached him. I saw him puff up and bristle, which would have sent most people running the other way. Even though he towered over you and could snap you like a twig, you planted yourself directly in front of him and teased and poked and prodded until he threw up his hands and laughed with you."

I grinned, remembering the incident. It was with Cal. For some reason, Cal and I had bonded the minute we met. I was never afraid of him, though I know he got that brightly colored, flaming skull tattoo to scare people away. It was part of his embattlements, his walls. But he was one of the sweetest men I'd ever met.

I responded, "But I didn't do anything. At least nothing that could help with post-traumatic stress. Doesn't that require counseling and other forms of therapy?" I asked, looking a little confused.

"Not always. And don't belittle the impact you have on these men. It seems you have the magic touch. Don't fight it, my dear. You've managed to gain their trust and earn their respect and that's saying a lot. These are men who don't let others in easily and bestowing deference on another, especially to a civilian, is even rarer for them.

He went on, "Some of the men told me about what happened Christmas Day. Those IOUs they presented you with were so much more than a Christmas gift. These are men who've avoided being around anyone else but each other in their personal time and they offered to spend an entire day with you, one on one. That would have been unthinkable for them a few short months ago." Ducky reached over and patted my knee.

"Don't misunderstand, they aren't totally unsociable. I don't think I'm betraying any confidences when I tell you that they function satisfactorily in work situations with clients and most of the men have normal sexual relations with women, but they rarely spend much time with the opposite sex. You must have noticed, very few of them are married or in long-term relationships."

I most definitely had noticed there were no women at RangeMan, no pictures of women on the guys' desks, and they never talked about any girlfriends or 'dates.' I remained silent listening to him talk before I finally asked another question. I knew better than to ask about any man in particular.

"So this is all attributed to post-traumatic stress from their experiences during military service?"

Ducky nodded. "Think about it, Stephanie. They were all raised in relatively normal families with expectations of career, marriage and family. The recruitment picture represented by enlisting in the Army to _'be all you can be'_ doesn't conjure up the actuality of today's wars."

He shifted his gaze away from me settling on my entertainment center loaded down with chotchkies. He continued, his voice taking on a stronger pitch, "Your enemy can be a sniper hiding on the rooftop of a church, the ten-year old girl carrying a bag of groceries with a bomb in the bottom, or the mother with a baby wrapped in explosives. You never know when one of the people you think you're there to protect will shoot you or lob a bomb at your vehicle. Nothing can prepare you for the reality except living it."

I watched as Ducky's hands twisted in his lap and I knew he was reliving his own terrible war experiences. I reached over and took one of his hands in mine. "You do this for yourself as much as for them, don't you?"

"Ah, my dear Stephanie. That is just what I have been talking about. You reached out to acknowledge my pain just now, because you felt it emanating from me. I can't imagine what you must feel each time you walk into RangeMan. The men think they hide it well, but they are filled with pain."

Tears filled my eyes as he said that. I always said, give me sympathy and I fall to pieces. He'd hit upon something I'd felt all my life, but had never been able to explain to myself. And I was beginning to get an inkling of what he was talking about when he spoke of empathy.

"Ducky, you're right. The pain and anguish they feel are overpowering. I don't know how they live with it. At times, it's like a torturous wave of agony hitting me in the chest when I'm with them. I can actually feel it as it washes over me. How can someone else's emotions be so palpable to me?"

"It is your empathy, your compassion for others. You have it in spades. Most people aren't aware of others the way you are, or if they are, they learn to shut it out. There is something in your makeup that allows you to take it in and feel it so deeply. But it's what you do with it that intrigues me. Instead of ignoring these feelings, you reach out to people, give them what they need, even when they don't know they need it."

"The power of empathy is the subject of another of my studies. Don't worry, I won't use you without your permission." Ducky smiled at me and took a sip of wine. "But I would like to continue this discussion with you sometime in the future, if you will allow me to ask you some rather personal questions about your relationships with others."

"My past relationships with men suck, so if I have this weird ability, it doesn't seem to help in that department," I grimaced.

I didn't think I wanted to be studied, no matter the subject, but what he said rocked me to the core. He was implying I had some ability I was totally unaware of and that I used without even thinking about it. I needed time to digest it all.

"We can talk about that later. Back to your work on post-traumatic stress disorder, Ducky. What else can you tell me about it?"

"A lot of the trauma comes from the surprise, the unexpectedness of the horrors of war. These men grew up on stories and movies of heroism, noble battle and patriotism. They didn't grow up thinking they would lead men to their deaths or be responsible for entire villages - men women and children - being destroyed, but now they have to live with what they've done. It can take years to come to terms with it."

Ducky took another sip of wine. I had the feeling he was trying to word things in general, but was thinking of certain 'patients' of his.

"Most soldiers have to deal with the same issues of brutality, death, maiming, and other bloody horrors, but those who work in Special Forces have constant and severe traumatic experiences. If they have girlfriends and wives, when they return from overseas duty many have serious problems with communication issues, anger management, even domestic abuse. Some men finally decide long-term relationships just aren't in the cards for them."

He was hitting too close to home. I pulled my legs up under me. "I had no idea so many soldiers were still suffering this many years after their service. They've already sacrificed so much. Has this or other studies come up with answers or workable treatments?"

"Some, yes, but there is no sure fire cure for all. It must be an individual treatment made up of several forms of therapy and sometimes medications. But some of the men are pretty stubborn and not inclined to change their ways, or they have found some substitution for a normal family life."

"Like those at RangeMan?" I asked, thinking of the close friendships between the men.

Ducky nodded. "This group is unlike any other I have observed. They are a unique bunch of fellows, which I think you would agree. In the beginning they quickly improved, but for the past several years, they have remained static in their personal growth. This year is the first real progress I've seen in these men. And I've seen it in all of them. I wanted to know what had changed in their lives to bring about this improvement. That's why I was so interested in meeting you, my dear. I think you're the catalyst, Stephanie."

I was ready to deny it, but Ducky had given me a lot to think about. By the time he left, my head was spinning.


	25. Chapter 25 Cherry Pop

**Chapter 25—Cherry Pop**

Stephanie's POV

Yesterday evening had me in a daze, and by the time Ducky left I was on overload. It was a good thing I was an expert in denial. I climbed into bed and got comfy in my thinking position. I didn't have another thought until morning.

Today was going to be a special day for several reasons. While I spent nearly every day at work with Krishna and Mary Lou, today we were going to be just friends, just girls, again. _We were going shopping!_ The 'second string' could take care of CadyCakes today.

Tonight was New Year's Eve and I had a hot date with an equally hot Cuban sex god. I hadn't gone out with a man in over a decade. I was excited beyond belief, not so much because of the date, but because of whom my date was with. Carlos had my heart speeding up every time I saw him.

I felt like a schoolgirl with a crush on the captain of the football team, or maybe he was the hot, but brooding lone wolf who rode a motorcycle and had even the male teachers stepping out of his way as he strode down the hall. Anyway, tonight, _we were going to the prom!_

To make it even better, Tank had invited Krishna to the party and Mary Lou and Lenny would also be joining us. Triple date! Tonight's festivities were to be celebrated at a small intimate off-Strip lounge frequented primarily by locals. We wouldn't have to contend with any out-of-town drunken vacationers.

I didn't have anything appropriate to wear, so Mary Lou, Krishna and I hit the stores looking for slinky cocktail dresses, smoking hot shoes and sexy accessories. It had been ages since the three of us had gone on a 'girls only' shopping spree. We felt like we were in our 20s or 30s again.

Giggling over imagining ourselves in some of the tiny bandaids that passed for dresses and floss that masqueraded as underwear, we spent an enjoyable morning flitting in and out of exclusive shops and boutiques. By lunch time, each of us had found the perfect dress and heels for an exciting evening of dining, dancing and shamelessly flirting with our respective dates.

Before going home, the three of us treated ourselves to a facial, pedi and mani at a local spa. It was fun picking out nail colors to match our new dresses. The deep blue shade I picked was called 'Sultry Sapphire.' Mary Lou chose 'Violet Vixen' and Krishna's was 'Orgasmic Opal.'

We were three hot to trot fifty-somethings acting more like schoolgirls getting ready for the big dance. We sat side by side in the salon, with manicurists attending to our manicures and pedicures.

I exclaimed, "I feel like tonight is prom night all over again and I have a date with the hottest guy in town."

"Well, I'd have to fight you on that claim, girlfriend," Krishna countered. "Tank is not only hot, he's on fire, especially when it comes to the ole bump and grind. You know, like rubbing two sticks together and watch out for the flames." Krishna fanned herself, much to the annoyance of the girl trying to apply nail polish.

"I feel bad for not sticking up for Lenny, but I have to say, when it comes to hotness either Carlos or Tank have it all over Lenny. However, I wouldn't give up my tight little Honey Buns for anyone. He's proven himself over and over for our family, taking care of care of us through thick and thin. And he can still get my heart revved up and the juices flowing in the bedroom." I raised my eyebrows at Mare's candid comments and she giggled. Mare rarely confided anything about she and Lenny's sex life.

Krishna just had to ask, "How's Carlos in the sack?"

I blushed candy apple red and dropped my head. Maybe if I didn't say anything, they would just assume I was too embarrassed to talk about it. And I was, but not for the reason I hoped they thought.

"Steph, look at me!" Krishna commanded. I reluctantly raised my head.

Just one look at me and she cried, "You can't be serious? You haven't done it yet? But he's a walking sex god! I swear, if he looked _at me_ with those big brown bedroom eyes of his, I would lay down and spread 'em without a second thought. What's the problem?"

I glared at her. "There is no problem. We're just taking it slow."

"_Slow!_ You've been mooning over him for months now. That's not just slow, that's 'creeping glacier' slow."

"Yeah, but like I said, tonight's prom night. Tonight's _the night_." I blushed again, but also grinned.

Mare started giggling and said, "If it's prom night, and you're going to do 'it' then you're a virgin again. After all, it's been over a decade, girl." She waved over one of the assistants.

"We need one of your special spa drinks. Bring this lucky girl one of your '_Cherry Pops_.'

"Mare!" I cried.

My cheeks turned as red as my drink, but I downed the cold sweet liquid giggling and thinking about Carlos naked and glistening with sweat as we got horizontal. The iced drink did nothing to cool me down. After the spa, we each retreated to our own homes for the rest of the afternoon to shower, shave, scrub and primp.

By the time the long black limo showed up outside my front door, I was giddy with excitement. My new dress highlighted my long legs and the push-up bra made the most out of my meager cleavage. I wore my hair loose and curly, knowing Carlos liked it that way. I was feeling pretty hot. Carlos knocked only once before I flung the door open.

"_Babe!" _

Oh, what a silver-tongued devil he was. Though I have to say, the appreciative look in his eyes as he wolfishly raked his gaze up and down my body more than made up for his lack of complimentary phrases and it certainly got my heart beating fast.

He was looking scrumptious in a silky black suit complete with a charcoal silk shirt and tie. Usually he wore his long hair in a low ponytail, but tonight it was loose falling over his ears and brushing his broad shoulders. He was sex personified.

I couldn't resist. I moved close and ran my fingers along the underside of his jacket lapels. "You look like you stepped out of a GQ spread. And that looks like a new suit." I shot him a mischievous grin. "I promise, no paint sprayer tonight."

I was beginning to wonder if he owned anything other than black clothes, though I wasn't complaining. He looked smoking hot in black. I was equally sure he looked just as good without the black clothes, or clothes of any color for that matter.

I don't remember much about our time together in the hospital shower, but I do remember seeing a gorgeous sculpted torso with abs galore. Maybe there was a little extra around the middle, but he was still panty-ruining hot. If he looked this good at age fifty, he must have been 'running into walls-hot' twenty years ago. I was glad I was wearing bikini panties with a cotton-lined crotch. I wore it for health reasons, but it would also keep me drier when Carlos turned those bedroom eyes on me.

"Nothing could get me down tonight, Babe, not even a face full of paint. You are so beautiful. That dress matches the color of your eyes perfectly and I see you're wearing your RangeMan heart." He lightly caressed my pendant, letting his fingers trail across the top of my dress. His fingers were cool on my skin, but I was getting hot.

"I'm glad you wore your hair down." He ran his fingers through my hair starting at the nape of my neck and lifting it up. Reaching around, he laid soft kisses from my neck down my bare shoulder. I shivered as he blew across the trail of wet kisses.

We were still standing in my doorway when he pulled me to him and kissed me, hard. I was already so turned on I eagerly kissed him back until Lester stuck his head out the limo door, "Hey, Mañoso, no time for that stuff now. We've got a party to go to."

Carlos snapped back, "There's always time for love, man. Get your priorities straight, Santos."

I could hear muffled laughter coming from inside the limo. Sounded like Tank, Krishna, Bobby and Ducky were already in there. When Carlos helped me into the back seat, I realized Lester had brought a date, too. She was a pretty young thing, maybe thirty. Lots of heavy make-up, teased bright red hair and a barely there black dress.

"Stephanie, this is Ginger. Ginger, Steph," was Lester's introduction. He was attentive to her, but I couldn't see any spark in his eyes when he looked at her. She was just a date for New Year's.

Unlike Tank. When he looked at Krishna, his eyes twinkled and he had a hard time looking anywhere but at her. He also couldn't keep himself from touching her and she wasn't pushing him away. They looked very happy, even infatuated with each other. Krishna had been alone this past year after breaking up with her long-time love. I thought Tank was a good match for her.

We made one more stop to pick up Bobby's date, an ER nurse he'd met a few weeks ago when we'd brought in Martin Booth. These guys were certainly opportunists, taking advantage of every situation. Bobby's date was nearer to all our ages and seemed like a very nice woman. Her name was Josie and she was Asian. She was a slight woman with short black hair and a sweet face. It turned out she knew Mary Lou and had worked with her on a hospital task force. It promised to be a fun evening for all of us.

The club Carlos had chosen was a small upscale lounge, well off the Vegas Strip. There was a live band playing and the place was already crowded. It was an older crowd, for which I was thankful. I didn't want to have to compete with a bunch of twenty and thirty year olds.

The owner, an older woman named Rose, was a dead ringer for Ella Fitzgerald. She greeted Carlos and Tank warmly and welcomed the rest of us to 'Honeysuckle Rose.' We had a section of tables reserved for us along the back wall. Several of the RangeMen and their dates were already seated with drinks in hand. Mary Lou and Lenny arrived shortly after us and our party was complete.

The band was great and very versatile, playing popular songs from a wide span of decades. It wasn't long before Carlos swept me up and out to the dance floor. The first couple of dances were embarrassing as I tripped and stumbled over both my and Carlos' feet. It had been so long since I'd been out and even longer since I'd tried to follow a man's lead.

Carlos was patient and we soon developed our rhythm. It was obvious he really enjoyed dancing and he was an excellent partner. He had a flair for the more intricate moves and his hips were in constant motion. I bet he could give Maksim a run for his money on that 'Dancing With The Stars' television show.

For the first half hour or so we stuck with our own dates, but when Tank asked me to dance and Carlos danced with Krishna, then it became a free for all. The next hour was a confused whirl of partners as each RangeMan swung me around the dance floor. The guys surprised me with their dancing skills and even more with their finesse. Face it…these guys were massive, muscle-bound men, but they were extremely agile and light on their feet. Even Ducky surprised me with his smooth moves. He was a joy as a dance partner and as a conversationalist. There was no talk of work. Tonight was a night for pure celebration.

When some of the other men in the lounge tried to cut in, Carlos' patience ran out and he reclaimed me with a vengeance not allowing any more interruptions to our 'quality time.' I wasn't in the slightest regretful. I could spend the rest of my life dancing in his arms, or doing anything else in his arms.

After several drinks, I'd relaxed enough to let Carlos lead me in some very sexy dances that weren't much more than slow bump and grind vertical movements. Think 'Dirty Dancing' with a Latin beat. It felt sinful, but oh so good!

I was truly enjoying the evening and trying hard not to anticipate what the end of the night might bring. I wanted to invite Carlos to spend the night with me, but I was terrified just with the thought of him seeing me naked. Yes, I know, he'd already seen me naked once. But not in a 'romantic' setting where we'd be having sex.

_SEX! Oh my god!_

_Jeez._ It'd been so long since I'd done 'it' I was afraid maybe the rules had changed or they added 'new stuff.' I wasn't thrilled with the changes age and gravity had wreaked upon my body. My waist wasn't the slimmest it had ever been and my stomach was no longer flat and smooth. And the stretch marks! I shuddered just to think of it.

Without an underwire bra, my breasts weren't as perky as they used to be. Luckily, I never had a huge rack, so at least they didn't hang down to my belly button like some women complained about. The last time a man had run his hands over my naked body, with the exception of my gynecologist, I was in my late thirties…a far cry from being fifty. To say I was feeling insecure and panicky was putting it mildly.

An attractive, successful and charming man like Carlos could have any woman he desired. I had no idea why he'd singled me out. I imagined him with a cultured, sophisticated woman in her early thirties, successful in her own right, polished, perfect figure, and with perfectly coiffed hair, not the wild mass of curly tangles my hair was always in. How could I compete with someone like that?

Were my insecurities enough for me to put the skids on making love with this Cuban sex god? Not the way my hormones were feeling tonight. If the limo was still parked outside, I think I'd drag Carlos out there and have my way with him right now.

Maybe what I lacked in youth and sophistication, I could make up for in the passion department. Carlos certainly brought that out in me. I was making myself blush with some of the thoughts I was having, of things I wanted to do to his body. Things I hadn't been willing to do with Dickie or Joe, I was beside myself fantasizing doing with Carlos. It involved a lot of kissing and licking and even some biting. I grinned just thinking about what it would feel like to wrap my lips around…crap, I was really pushing my panty's absorbency abilities.

I felt like we'd been having mental foreplay for months now and I was so highly strung I was afraid I'd snap the moment he touched me in a sexual way.

Yep! Tonight was the night. I was getting my cherry popped after prom. Mary Lou was right, it'd been so long, I was like a virgin again.

Tank's POV

Tonight had been one humdinger of an evening. It had been several years since all of us guys had gone out together with dates.

Honeysuckle Rose offered a great live band and the owner, Rosie Martin, had been a friend of Ranger's and mine for years. She made sure we were taken good care of all evening. I'd danced with more beautiful women tonight than I had in years, but the best and most beautiful partner was Krishna.

I couldn't have been happier when Krishna agreed to be my New Year's date. She was one fine woman. Big, beautiful, with a body that wouldn't quit. And in bed…she exhausted me every time we'd been together. She was also intelligent, witty and strong-willed. She called me on all my stuff; I couldn't get away with a thing. She was just what I wanted and what I needed. And I had Stephanie to thank for her.

I also couldn't be happier for Steph and Ranger. I was glad to see she'd broken her 'no dating' rule and was seeing my best friend. It was obvious to anyone they were in love with each other, though I don't think either of them had admitted it yet, even to themselves.

The rest of the guys had found dates for the evening, but the only one I thought might have staying power was Bobby's date, Josie. She was funny and laid back and she and Bobby talked and laughed non-stop all evening.

We were all having a great time until Ranger collapsed.


	26. Chapter 26 Special K

**Chapter 26—Special K**

Tank's POV

It was maybe twenty minutes before midnight and the girls had all trooped off together to the 'powder room.' I knew better than to make a snide comment, though Lester had to say something about their 'group pee.' The girls said they wanted to get ready for the New Year's countdown. What does that mean? _Get ready_? How long does it take to smear some red goo on your lips?

In the meantime, the men were speculating on which of us were going to get lucky tonight. All of us that is except for Ranger. He was making his way over to the band carefully weaving through the wildly dancing couples. He'd said something earlier about planning some special dance for Steph and himself.

As he reached the far end of the room, I saw him falter a few times and then crumple to the floor.

Adrenaline surged through me and I alerted the rest of the guys. Ram and Lester immediately scanned the room for perps and Bobby and I shoved our way through the crowd to Ranger. Bobby crouched by his side and started checking him. _He was still alive!_

When I saw it wasn't a gunshot or knife wound I was thinking heart attack and my own was pounding at the thought of losing my best friend.

Bobby did the ABC's—airway, breathing, circulation—and Ranger was breathing, though it was labored and Bobby said his pulse was racing. But he wasn't awake. I held my phone up and looked at Bobby. He nodded. I called 911.

The band had stopped playing and the dance crowd had pressed in on us wondering what was going on. And then the girls returned to the floor. Lester stopped Stephanie before she could make her way through the agitated throng. But one look at Lester's face and she shrugged him off, pushing her way over to us.

Seeing Ranger lying on his back, unconscious, did her in. She let out one sob and then dropped to her knees next to Bobby, her eyes never leaving Ranger's face. I think she stopped breathing for several minutes.

"What happened, Bobby? What's wrong with him?" she cried, her voice breaking.

"He just collapsed. I'm not sure why. His pulse was racing and now it's weak. He's breathing, though it's getting shallow. I don't see any blood. I need to examine him."

Rosie came over and told us we could use her office, if he could be moved. There were too many people crowding in on us. Bobby and I grabbed Ranger and carried him quickly off the dance floor. Steph, Josie and Lester followed close behind. The other guys were quietly checking out the rest of the patrons just in case this turned out to be foul play and not a health issue.

We laid Ranger on the floor of Rosie's office. Working together, Bobby and Josie took off Ranger's jacket and then his shirt. Josie kept track of Ranger's blood pressure, heart rate and breathing while Bobby examined him. When he checked Ranger's eyes, he nudged Josie and she rechecked them. The look between Bobby and Josie alarmed even me. I pulled Steph to me to get her out of Bobby's way and tried to keep her calm.

There was a sound at the office door and all three of us pulled our guns as the door opened. It was Ram. He moved over to me and held his fist out, dropping something in my hand.

"Found this near the area where he dropped," Ram said quietly.

I looked down at the small plastic and metal object in my hand and showed the projectile to Bobby and then Lester.

Bobby immediately started searching every square inch of Ranger's torso. He finally found a tiny puncture mark in Ranger's neck. He asked for the dart. Opening it, Bobby smelled, and then tasted it. He handed it to Josie and she did the same. Simultaneously, they said, "Special K."

_Damn!_ That wasn't good.

Steph struggled to reach Ranger. "What is it? What did you find? What's a _breakfast cereal_ got to do with Carlos?" she cried. She looked at Ram and then back to Bobby.

Bobby and I exchanged pained glances and then he settled his eyes on Steph. He held up the dart. "This is a tranquilizer dart. It was filled with an anesthetic."

"So…someone…drugged Carlos? Is it harmful?" she asked, her eyes darting from Bobby to Ranger's still form.

"I don't know yet, Tiger. I need more information myself." Bobby bent over Ranger and continued monitoring his vitals. He looked worried. So did Josie.

I stroked Steph's back as I rocked her side to side. I did not want to be the one to tell her that someone had shot Ranger with a tranq dart filled with Ketamine, but Bobby needed to focus on Ranger. I'd had firsthand experience with the drug while on a FUBAR mission. It wasn't pretty.

"Stephanie, look at me." She slowly tore her eyes from Ranger's face to look up at me.

"Ranger was shot with a tranquilizer dart. It was filled with a substance called Ketamine." I could see the term meant nothing to her.

"It's also called Special K. It's normally used as an anesthetic for animals, but humans use it to get high. It isn't usually fatal, unless you overdose."

At that remark, Steph looked terrified. I pulled her closer and kissed the top of her curly head. "We don't know much more than that. The dart was a large one. If it was completely filled, Ranger was given a huge dose."

A small sob escaped her lips and she buried her face in my chest. I could feel her tremble and then her body stilled. When she looked back up, her face was composed and determined. She pulled away from me.

In a demanding voice, Steph questioned, "Why hasn't the ambulance arrived yet?"

I cut my eyes to Ram and he dashed out the office door. For a moment, the loud music and laughing voices filled the room with the happy sounds of a New Year's celebration.

Steph dropped down to Ranger's side and stroked his brow. She leaned over and kissed his forehead and I could see her lips moving, but couldn't hear her words.

Bobby was moving calmly but efficiently over Ranger, constantly monitoring his breathing and pulse rate, which were now both dangerously slow and shallow. I watched as he and Josie prepared to start CPR if needed. They made Steph move away from his head and torso, but she refused to leave Ranger and transferred her gentle reassuring strokes to his legs. He just laid there, perfectly still, any rising and falling of his chest imperceptible.

Lester and I listened to Bobby and Josie discuss Ranger's condition and treatment possibilities depending on Ranger's changing body functions. Steph hung on every word they said, but her eyes never left Ranger's face. She was trying not to interfere and let Bobby do his job without distractions.

Finally, she touched Bobby's arm and asked, "Please tell me…What's going on? What could this Special K do to him?"

Bobby sat back on his heels and sighed. "Well, for one, it knocks you out. With low doses, your blood pressure, pulse rate and breathing increase. With high doses, it can suppress breathing functions and slow your heart rate."

Steph stared at Ranger's chest. "His breathing and heart rate are dangerously low, aren't they?" Bobby nodded.

"He could die from this?" she asked in a whisper. I closed my eyes, unable to bear the anguished look on her face.

Bobby tried to reassure her. "He's strong, Tiger. Stronger than any of us. This isn't the first time I've been worried about him. The one good thing about Ketamine is that it doesn't last long. If he's going to wake up, it'll be soon. And then its other effects kick in."

"What other effects? What else does he have to endure?" Steph cried.

"If he makes it through the anesthesia…" Bobby started.

"_**When**__…when he makes it…"_ Steph admonished.

Bobby stared at her for moment. "_When_ Ranger wakes up, he will experience hallucinations. He's going to be on quite a trip for the next hour or two. If he's lucky, the trip will be a good one. If not, it can send him to hell and back. And then, _when_ he comes out of it, he'll feel like shit for awhile, worse than if he had severe food poisoning. But that is better than the alternative."

Ram stuck his head in the room, giving me a slight shake of his head. The ambulance still wasn't here.

Several tense minutes passed with no change to Ranger's condition. When Ranger finally started moving his arms and legs, I could see relief fill Bobby's face. The anesthesia part was wearing off and his respiration had picked up. His eyes kept opening and closing, but they were unfocused and jerky.

Bobby immediately started reassuring Ranger he was alright. Ranger was so out of it, I doubted he was even aware of us. Stephanie moved back by his side, one hand always touching him.

Without taking her eyes off Ranger, Steph demanded more information. Josie gave her the quick version of Ketamine treatment 101 and then Steph asked again about getting him to the hospital. Bobby, Lester and I exchanged looks, communicating without saying a word. We'd been on too many missions together.

I left the room and made my way through the revelers celebrating the 'New Year's ball dropping.' I grabbed Ram and quickly updated him and asked him to see that all our dates got home using the limo. Then I asked him to bring back a couple of vehicles for us to use later, but to stay with the vehicles. This was not a night to get into an unattended car.

I met the ambulance just as it was pulling up out front. I explained we didn't need them and gave them a wad of cash for the wasted trip. One look at me and then my money and they didn't ask questions. I went back into the lounge and asked Rosie if we could stay in her office for an hour or two. She just kissed my cheek. Now I had to go in and explain it to a distraught Stephanie.

When I walked back into the office, Lester was perched on a chair behind Steph, massaging her neck and shoulders. Steph was sitting on the floor on one side of Ranger, holding his hand in her lap and stroking his forehead and hair with her other hand. She looked up at me, worried and questioning.

It was best to just say it. "Steph, I sent the ambulance away."

She rose up on her knees. "_What? Why?_ He _needs_ professional care." She was getting angry. I turned to Bobby.

Bobby tried to explain. "Tiger, Ranger's out of the worst of it. If I thought he was in serious danger still, I wouldn't hesitate, but I know Ranger. He would not want this on any hospital record if it could be helped. Remember, I'm a doctor and I've been treating Ranger for nearly thirty years now. And Josie's an ER nurse. We can handle this from now on. If he starts to show any signs of worsening, I'll drive him to the ER personally."

Steph looked over at Josie, who was looking aghast at Bobby. He looked at both women and sighed. "You're going to have to trust me on this one. Ranger would kill me if I didn't handle it this way."

Steph turned to look at each of us, searching our faces. To everyone's credit, we met her angry stare without blinking. Ranger would be mad enough at us for allowing Stephanie to stay here with him and not getting her immediately back to RangeMan. Bobby was right. Ranger would have a proverbial cow if we acquiesced to Steph's fears and took him to the hospital now.

Steph was ready to go on the attack, but Ranger began talking in a low voice. Her attention was immediately diverted.

He was mumbling nonsensical words. He sounded in awe of something. Good! Maybe he would get lucky and have a pleasant 'trip.' Not all K-holes were, and good or bad, all Ketamine trips were intense. If Ranger had been in his usual black mood, this could have been a real bummer of an experience for all of us. I credited Steph with his good mood and, so far, peaceful trip. He wasn't out of the woods yet, but at least his breathing was back to normal.

Bobby and Josie stayed huddled on Ranger's other side, monitoring his vitals. They looked relaxed. That told me all I needed to know for now. I darted back out to the main room and found Krishna just as Ram was escorting her out, along with his own date and Lester's. I apologized profusely for deserting her, but she just kissed me and told me to take care of my friend and Stephanie. Giving her another kiss, I held her close while we wished each other a Happy New Year. I told her I'd call her tomorrow morning and then I returned to the office.

I knew Ranger wouldn't want Stephanie here while he went potentially out of control, but short of carrying her out kicking and screaming, I didn't think I could get her to leave voluntarily. And with Josie being an ER nurse, she could help Bobby if things got out of hand. Lester and I were there to restrain Ranger in case he got violent or threatened to hurt himself. One good thing about Ketamine, it was a short acting drug and the worst of it should be over in less than two hours.

We all got comfortable to wait it out. We could hear the band play 'Auld Lang Syne' and the whoops and cheers start.

Into the silence of the office, Lester shouted, _"Happy New Year!"_

Bobby immediately hushed him. "Loud sounds and too much physical or visual stimulation can be overpowering when you're under the influence of K. We need to keep Ranger calm and quiet." The noisy racket in the lounge was a muffled din in the office.

Bobby was answering more of Steph's questions. "Steph, just keep reassuring him. He may talk to us, but he probably won't make much sense. He'll be experiencing hallucinations, hopefully pleasant ones. And, by the way, he won't remember anything that happened and he'll appreciate it if we don't either." He looked directly at Lester as he related the last sentence.

The noise outside the office increased dramatically. It was midnight. The crowd in the lounge was certainly a happy bunch. Bobby gave Josie a kiss and then whispered in her ear. She was smiling as she stroked his cheek. I missed Krishna already.

Steph leaned over Ranger's prone body and touched her lips to his. I could see her lips move, saying, 'Happy New Year' as she gently pressed her body to his in a tender hug.

Suddenly, Steph sat up. She stared at me. The look on her face was one of deadly anger.

"_Who did this to him?"_ she uttered in a tight, low voice, obviously just realizing someone intentionally had tried to harm Ranger.

That had been one of the first things that had crossed my mind when I saw Ranger drop to the ground…who wanted to hurt Ranger? Steph and I lived in two very different worlds. Knowing there were innocents like Stephanie made what we did for a living seem just a little bit more noble…making the world a better place by apprehending or eliminating the bad guys. Looked like we had to get rid of one more bad guy.

"We don't know, Steph. Lester…did you find anything?" I knew he hadn't found a relevant clue, but Stephanie needed to hear it.

Lester shook his head. "It could have been anyone in the lounge. We don't know when Ranger was hit." He glanced over at Bobby. "Doesn't K take about thirty seconds to knock you out and that's only if you get a large dose?"

Bobby nodded, "He got a large dose. Too large. If he wasn't as big a guy and in as good a shape as he is, this would have been much more serious. He was lucky."

Steph piped up again, "But why? Why would someone drug Carlos? If they wanted to kill him, why not with a bullet? And why tonight, why here?"

"Those are all good questions, Tiger. I wish I had answers for you," I told her.

Ranger was becoming more vocal. He pulled Stephanie down to him and in a whisper said, "_I'm flying. I can fly!_"

He was waving an arm through the air and holding Steph tightly to him with the other. Bobby, Lester and I sent signals to each other to be ready to quickly pull Steph away if Ranger lost control.

Ranger's voice was low and a little breathy, unusual for him, to say the least. "Babe, fly with me. You can do it. It's beautiful. Can you feel it?" He had a smile and was gazing at Steph, but his eyes were jerking back and forth. He tried to sit up, but Bobby held his shoulders down until he relaxed again.

Steph whispered in his ear, "I'm here, Carlos. I'm right here by your side. You're safe." She rubbed her cheek against his, her mass of curls falling across his face.

Ranger lapsed into halting jumbled Spanish, most of which did not make much sense. "¡Dios! Es tan suave y huele muy bien. Como las nubes. Es evidente…tan claro. ¿Por qué no lo veo antes? Es la vida. La respuesta a todo. Estefania, eres tü. Tü lo son..mi vida…la luz. Es lo ünico bueno. Es tan claro. Eres tan hermosa. Te amo, Babe. Tü eres yo…yo te. Somos uno. ¿Puedes verlo? Vuela conmigo!"

[_God!_ _It is so soft and smells so good._ _Like clouds. It's clear…so clear. Why didn't I see it before? It's life. The answer to everything. Stephanie…it's you. You're it…my life…the light. It's the only good thing. It's so clear. You are so beautiful. I love you, Babe. You're me…I'm you. We're one. Can you see it? Fly with me!]_

Steph took it all in stride, stroking his face, his arms, his chest, telling him it would be alright. She laid soft kisses on his forehead and ran her fingers through his hair. Almost made me wish I'd been drugged. And that I still had hair.

Ranger soon fell into a deep trance, lost in his hallucinations. At one point, he started thrashing around and Bobby pulled Steph away from him. He nearly overpowered Lester and I as we held him down so he wouldn't hurt himself. It got so bad, Bobby had to help us control him. Three to one…and this was a _good_ trip!

He finally roused after fifty minutes or so complaining of a raging headache and nausea. Bobby gave him a pain killer with some water. Then we had to talk him into staying quiet for another hour or so to let as much of the drug wear off as possible before taking him home. He didn't put up much of a fight, which told me just how bad off he really was. He laid back, closed his eyes and didn't say another word. Stephanie cuddled up next to him, one arm cradling his head, the other resting lightly on his chest, directly over his heart.

We wanted to wait until Rosie closed up the lounge before taking Ranger out of there. I called Ram and asked him to scout out the surrounding locale to see if anyone was spying outside the lounge, waiting for us to leave. It didn't look like any of us got too lucky this New Year's Eve.

By 2:00 a.m. Ranger was lucid enough for us to tell him what had happened_, again_. He got real quiet. I watched him pull away from Stephanie and then watched as she withdrew within herself. I hoped the potential threat this posed didn't result in Ranger pushing Stephanie away from him in some noble effort to protect her.


	27. Chapter 27 Dirty Harry

**Chapter 27—Dirty Harry**

Ranger's POV

_Fuck! I hate drugs._ I hate everything about them. I hate being out of control. I hate the lethargic, foggy feeling afterward. I hate the loss of time, the waste.

After the guys brought me home, I puked my guts out and then slept for hours. I still felt like shit. When I get my hands on the person who did this, they'll wish they'd never crossed my path. They'll wish they'd never been born.

I insisted Tank take Stephanie home before returning to RangeMan, though she wanted to stay with me the rest of the night. I couldn't let her see me like that. I was weak, nauseous and had a throbbing headache. I was furious Tank let her stay with me while I was going through… whatever kind of trip I went through.

I had no memory of it. Another thing I hated about drugs. You lose a piece of yourself. I'd have to ask Tank how big a fool I made of myself. I'd seen plenty of men on K and it was never pretty.

After I got the all clear from Bobby this morning, I called Stephanie. She was solicitous and concerned, but extremely quiet. I knew she was upset with me for sending her home instead of allowing her to stay with me at RangeMan last night, but it was bad enough she'd witnessed my K-hole. She didn't need to see me with my head in the toilet.

Last night was supposed to be our night together…a night where I would take care of her every need, her every desire. Our first night together wasn't going to be with her holding my head while I dry heaved or was in a drugged stupor.

I told her I'd be busy tracking down whoever it was that drugged me. She said she understood. I knew I'd have a lot to make up to her very soon.

I locked myself in my office to go over what I knew and then I studied those notes trying to find connections. Finally I called in Tank, Lester and Bobby.

"There've been a number of odd accidents and occurrences of late. How many are just random events and which ones may be related to my drugging is still up for conjecture. Here's what I know."

"Tank, in late August, your vehicle's tires were slashed in front of CadyCakes. In late December, my Carrera was vandalized in front of CadyCakes."

"Just after our Thanksgiving dinner with Stephanie, my Carrera was shot at while it was parked in our garage. Two nights ago, while driving my SUV home from Stephanie's, Ducky was run off the road, crashing my truck. On New Year's Eve, I was shot with a tranquilizer dart at Rose's while I was on a date with Stephanie."

"And in early December, after the vehicle accident when we were painting over graffiti, I drove Steph out to the cemetery to visit her daughter's grave. I'm pretty sure someone took a shot at me then." That got concerned looks from all of them.

"I didn't say anything, because I wasn't sure and it seemed so out of place. I was at the top of a hill and Steph was at the bottom when it happened. I went back out by myself that same afternoon and checked things out. I didn't find any evidence of a bullet, but I found a cupcake wrapper in a trampled patch of grass within a grove of trees across the lawn at an adjacent hill. Turns out the paper is the exact same kind Steph uses at CadyCakes. I did a little research and couldn't find any other bakery in town that uses that brand of biodegradable wrappers."

"The other odd thing is that Steph left a bunch of flowers on her daughter's grave and when I went back a few hours later, they were gone and in their place was a vase of pink roses. The groundskeeper I talked to said they only remove dead flowers in the morning before the cemetery opens each day."

Tank questioned, "If the shooter missed you, he or she must not be a very good shot."

Leave it to Tank to point that out. Lives were at stake. I couldn't leave out any salient facts. _Damn!_ "Well, when the shot was fired I was moving in an unexpected way. Otherwise, I think the bullet would have hit its target…namely, my heart."

"What was this 'unexpected way' you were moving?" Lester asked.

Here it comes. Yank the bandaid off quickly. "I was doing a 'tuck and roll' maneuver down the hill," I explained.

"You mean you were doing _somersaults_ down a grassy hill to your girl?" Lester crowed.

I glared at Santos daring him to continue mocking me. "There were extenuating circumstances," I said, thinking of Steph 'celebrating' her dead daughter's birthday by doing her favorite thing…rolling down hills. Playing along with Steph's wishes may have saved my life. _Screw Santos!_

Thankfully, Bobby got us back on track. "How long have you suspected someone was targeting you…targeting you _because of your relationship with Stephanie_?"

"You're right…Stephanie is definitely the key to this. The possible shooting at the cemetery put my radar on edge, but my Porsche getting trashed was the kicker."

Tank held up his hand, "Back to the car accident, we found out later that accident was caused by one of the drivers getting shot with a rifle. The cartridge was a .338 Lapua Magnum. The fact that the driver was shot was odd enough, but did it have anything to do with you and Steph?"

I shook my head, "I don't know. Just before the accident happened, I was teasing Steph and had backed her against the wet paint. Things got…a little heated between us." I let myself enjoy the memory for a moment until I saw Lester grinning like a voyeuristic fool. When all this was over, Santos and I had a date on the mats.

Back to business. "So, was the car accident a coincidence or an attempt to break us apart or send us a message? The Lapua Magnum is a popular cartridge nowadays. Impossible to track to a particular buyer. Though it would require something with that kind of range and accuracy to make that shot at the cemetery."

Tank smiled, "Yeah, but this cartridge was a wildcatter. If we can find someone who knows that particular underground, we may be able to pick up a lead."

"I'll take that. I have a connection with some local wildcat reloaders I can try," Lester said. "In October, I was beat up outside a bar. I always thought it felt a bit off, not like a random mugging. But I don't know what the tie-in would be."

Bobby shook his head, "There were a couple other guys who got badly beat up outside a bar about the same time. I remember reading about it. That could have been just someone targeting bar patrons."

Lester wouldn't let it go. "Someone who likes to beat up people usually doesn't taser them first. The part you don't know is the day I got attacked was the day I met Steph just outside of the office. I wanted to talk to her about…something. Her answer made me happy…and you know me… I picked her up and swung her around. I'm sure we looked pretty cozy, but it was just a spontaneous friendly gesture." He shot a hesitant glance my way. Definitely…the mats.

Tank said, "The day my tires were slashed, there was an obnoxious man hitting on Stephanie in the diner. She brushed him off and returned to finish dinner with me. It was obvious it wasn't the first time he'd tried anything with her. He gave me a thorough once over before angrily walking out."

I couldn't believe what I just heard. I flew out of my chair and stood over Tank. "_You had dinner with Stephanie in August? _So you knew who she was that first day she brought lunch in? _I thought_ you were too friendly with her. And you never said _anything to me_? I spent _months_ trying to find out who she was." I just stared at him, unable to comprehend his betrayal.

Tank rubbed his hand over his bald head. "Ranger…she begged me to keep her identity a secret that day she came by to give you her first payment. Remember? You grilled me about comforting her in the garage? She was really upset and when you and I talked, you were really upset. I figured it would all work itself out. And it did! And probably for the better. You both took it slow and easy and now you're together. I'm sorry, man. I figured as long as she was coming in for the lunches, you'd eventually figure out her identity."

I didn't have time to get into it with him, but I felt like taking both Tank and Lester to the mats. I blew out a huge breath and turned back to my notes.

"Okay, so the angry guy in the diner may have slashed your tires. Do you know who he is?"

Tank replied, "No, but I could ask Steph."

I didn't want to involve Stephanie any more than she already was, but this could be a crucial piece of evidence. "Yeah, call her, but don't give her any details. She's impulsive enough and upset enough, if she thinks she played any part in me being drugged she may try to take things into her own hands."

"Santos, make your calls. Tank, run a search on the guy as soon as you get a name. Bobby, make sure the office is covered in case we have to be away for a while. Meet back here in an hour."

Stephanie's POV

I didn't sleep a wink all night. I was too keyed up. Carlos called early this morning to let me know he wouldn't be able to see me for a while. No discussion of last night. No mention of how he was. Not a word about his abrupt treatment of me. He was all business.

He was on the hunt. I was getting a real good look at Carlos 'Ranger' Mañoso. He could be one closed off bastard. I was beginning to see why many of these guys didn't have long-term relationships with women.

Mid-morning, Tank called and asked me about Harry, wanting to know his name and if I knew anything else about him. All I knew was his name was Harry Black, he worked security for the Palace Casino and he was a scuzzbag. Why would Tank ask me about Harry? Did they think he had something to do with Carlos being drugged last night?

I hadn't seen Harry since that day Tank was with me at the diner way back in August. Samantha told me he'd been in several times since then, but I hadn't been working. She said he'd seemed angry when she told him I wasn't in.

But still, to think Harry had something to do with drugging Carlos…that didn't make any sense. They were paranoid. If they thought all this had something to do with me, they might as well check out Joe too, especially after his unexpected visit the other day.

Carlos had once told me he and the guys at RangeMan had lots of people who wanted them dead…people they'd arrested and testified against. And RangeMan was nationwide. Lots of suspects.

I ran a local nonprofit who helped families cope with diabetes. As far as I knew, I had no enemies. Except for Joyce Barnhardt, my childhood nemesis, but I hadn't seen her since my highly public first divorce more than twenty-five years ago.

The chances of this being about me were slim to none.

Ranger's POV

I dropped the file on Harry Black back on my desk and looked at the three men sitting in front of me. They'd all read the same file.

"Are we agreed?" There was a grim assent from all three.

Black had arrived in Las Vegas about a year ago and took a security job with the Palace Casino. Before that he worked for another casino in Atlantic City for a year. Before that, he'd been in prison for three years. He'd been a dirty cop who got caught taking bribes. A real upstanding citizen. There was no record of him ever serving in the military, but he was trained in armed combat, martial arts and rifles, as well as being SWAT trained.

Lester's connection identified Black as purchasing wildcatted Lapua Magnum cartridges a few months ago. The reloads were a deadly bullet capable of piercing Kevlar vests at considerable range. Not something any reputable manufacturer would ever make...let alone sell to civilians.

"We need to keep track of Black at all times. No telling when he may make his next move. And we need evidence against him. Santos…Brown… find Black. Don't let him out of your sight. And we need to find Stephanie. None of the incidents have targeted her, but I'll feel better when she's safe here at RangeMan."

I hit speed dial and got her voice mail. "Babe, call me." I disconnected. Tank frowned at me. I sighed. I hit speed dial again. "Stephanie, I'd really appreciate it if you'd call me as soon as you get this. I need to talk to you. It's important." Tank looked a little happier.

"Tank, call Krishna and see if Steph's at work or if she knows where she is."

I waited while he made the call and then got impatient while he talked 'lovey dovey' to Krishna. I kept shooting him rude glances, but he ignored me. When I tapped on my watch, he finally hung up. Krishna thought Steph was at home. She wasn't expected in at work for another couple of hours.

"Let's run by her house and see if she's there," I said. I had a bad feeling.

It took about ten minutes to drive to her house. We walked up the curving path to the front door to find it standing wide open. Fear shot through me. I tore through the house, but I knew she wasn't there. There was blood smeared on the refrigerator and blood spatter on one of the kitchen walls. It looked like someone had been struck in the face and blood from either their nose or mouth had sprayed against the wall.

When I saw that, my vision went dark for a second. My reaction was so unexpected, it threw me off. Even under the worst situations, I'd never lost control on any of my missions, but this was…_Stephanie!_ I just stood there, my fists clenching and unclenching.

Tank pushed me outside to the SUV and slid into the driver's seat, his hand out. I got in the passenger side and reluctantly handed him the keys. He was right; I shouldn't drive. I called Santos instead.

As soon as Santos picked up, I asked, "Have you found Black yet?"

"Yeah, Bobby and I have him in sight right now. He's walking the casino floor. He's one greased up slimeball in a monkey suit."

"_What? He's there?"_ I thought for sure it was Black. Everything pointed to him. "Someone's kidnapped Steph. She's not home, her door's wide open and there's blood in her kitchen."

"_No! God, no…"_

My gut was rarely wrong. Everything in me told me Black had trashed my car and shot at me and somehow did all the other things, all in an effort to keep me away from Stephanie. There was something we were missing.

"Stay with him, Lester. Call if he leaves or does anything out of the ordinary."

We needed more information.

"Back to the office, Tank. I want to run a more thorough background search on Black." Tank had a lead foot and we were home in minutes.


	28. Chapter 28 Harry and Henderson

**Chapter 28—Harry and Henderson**

Ranger's POV

When Tank and I got to the office, I ran my own search on Harry Black, going back farther in time than Tank had. I also ran several more complicated background searches.

In studying Black's former law enforcement career, a name popped out and hit me between the eyes_. Joseph Morelli!_ Steph's ex-husband. Morelli was his partner for nearly four years when Black worked in Trenton. Morelli was responsible for sending Black to prison.

I yelled for Tank. He was in my office in a flash. "Why didn't you include Black's police partner's name in the file you prepared?" I asked, frustration fueling my anger.

"I didn't think it was relevant to this situation. Who is he?"

"Joseph Morelli!"

"Who's that?"

"Stephanie's _ex-husband_. Her name is Stephanie _Morelli_."

"No. Her name is Stephanie _Plum_."

We stared at each other, each a little confused.

Pulling up a search program, I typed in Stephanie Morelli. It led me to Stephanie Plum and her nonprofit organization, Cady's Kids. Plum was her maiden name. She must have taken it back after the divorce.

After seeing her name on her daughter's headstone, I'd just assumed. _Rookie mistake!_ After a few more keystrokes, I learned she'd been married once before Morelli to a lawyer named Dickie Orr. What man went by the name Dickie?

I was kicking myself. A thorough background check should have been completed on her once we knew her name, but I was trying to respect her right to privacy. I figured she'd tell me what she wanted me to know. Who would have thought we'd be trying to track her down and rescue her from a stalker?

Stephanie had been one big surprise after another. Some surprises had been quite amusing, others downright scary. I was used to that kind of excitement in my professional life, but not where women were concerned. That side of my life was supposed to be calm and peaceful. I needed the balance. Or so I thought.

I looked up a few more things, notably Morelli's current information. What I found still led me to believe Black was our man, but I was now second guessing myself, not wanting to leave any stone unturned.

If her ex-husband was the jealous type, he could be behind all these incidents in an effort to keep Stephanie single and available to him or even as revenge against her. But my money was still on Black.

Tank handed me a couple of printouts. The first one was Black's financial information. The bank statements showed Black had extremely large balances in several accounts, much more than he should be making as a casino security manager. Tank informed me this was just a cursory search of his finances. There were indications of several overseas accounts as well.

The other printout listed several addresses. One was Black's apartment in an expensive residential building downtown, the second was the Palace Casino where he worked, and the third was a warehouse in a remote industrial park in the nearby town of Henderson.

He said, "I had to dig for the last one, but Black is listed as the president of a limited corporation that leases that warehouse."

Calling up a satellite image of the warehouse address, Tank leaned over my shoulder as we studied the building and adjacent area. The street view showed the only street entry was from the front. Two big cargo doors and one pedestrian door. The eagle eye view showed a small second story balcony with a glass door in the rear of the building. Maybe a loft office or apartment on the second floor?

Time was of the essence. I didn't allow myself to think about what Stephanie was going through or what he was doing to her. That way lay madness and I needed to remain clear-headed and in control. I didn't trust the local PD to handle this; besides, I had no proof. It would take hours, possibly even days before they'd react with any efficiency.

Bobby called. "Black is leaving the casino. He's driving a black Lincoln town car, Nevada license plate KINGBLK. Les and I will follow him and keep you posted. Anything new on your end?"

I filled him in. "Steph has an ex-husband named Joseph Morelli. He's in law enforcement out of New Jersey, but travels to Nevada frequently as part of a gambling corruption task force. He used to be Black's partner when they worked in law enforcement. He's a possible for the stalker, or maybe he's just Black's motivation. In 2005, Morelli turned Black in for taking bribes."

"Do you have a picture of Morelli?" Bobby asked.

"No, but we'll get it and send it to you." I disconnected.

Tank nodded to me and returned to his office. In minutes, my phone beeped and there was a photo of Joseph Morelli. He was a good looking man, very Italian Stallion. _Hmm_. So that's Steph's type? Well, we're both tall and dark, but I was much better looking.

I got up and paced, smacking my fist into my palm. When that didn't help, I took the stairs to the armory in the basement and loaded up. Selecting enough gear for a small army, I moved to the garage and secured the weapons and equipment in Tank's SUV. I ran back up to the office and arrived just as Lester called.

"We followed Black to an industrial park outside of Henderson at Eastgate and Warm Springs Road. He drove his car into a big tan warehouse on the southwest corner. The place looks deserted. There are no windows that we can see."

"Sit tight. Tank and I'll be there ASAP. Be prepared for a stealth entry."

Stephanie's POV

My mother always called me for a chat when she got home from grocery shopping on Saturdays. Today was no exception, though I wasn't in the mood to talk.

Mom related the latest hilarious incident of my Grandma Mazur, although she didn't see it as particularly funny. Grandma, ninety-two years young, lived with my parents in the house I grew up in, which was located in Chambersburg, the 'Burg, New Jersey.

The night before, Grandma had invited her latest geriatric paramour home for a night of fun and frolic. They were having a nice soak in the tub…there's only one bathroom in my parents' house…when my father walked in on them at a most inopportune time. Seems Grandma had her mouth full and was unable to properly introduce my father to her date.

My mother couldn't even bring herself to say any of the euphemisms for fellatio; I had to guess what she meant. It took my mother hours to calm my father down, and by that time Grandma's date had had his fill of Grandma and had returned to the assisted living home.

Anyway, like I said, I'd been talking to my mother when two thugs, who looked like they stepped out of one of the Godfather movies, broke into my house. They were huge, no-necked swarthy men with slicked-back hair. They wore cheap black suits and even cheaper sunglasses. I couldn't tell them apart. The names "Frick' and 'Frack' went through my mind.

Before I could even scream, one of the guys, I'll call him Frick, grabbed my cell phone and smashed it. He could have just closed it, but some men are just too physical. I wasn't thrilled with losing my phone. I still had six months on the contract.

So I punched him in the nose. Like I said, he was a physical guy and he punched me back, but his fist was so big it hit my nose, my lip and my right eye. I could taste my own blood as it ran from my nose down the back of my throat. It hurt like hell and I called him a really rude name, something much worse than Frick.

He backhanded me sending my blood flying through the kitchen. When I handed him a towel and demanded he clean up the bloody mess, he pulled out a gun and told me to shut up or he'd plug me. What kind of person talked like that? _Plug me!_ Like I was a leaky faucet.

Holding the gun against my back, he pushed me out the door and into the back seat of a black town car. He crawled in after me. Frack was our chauffeur. None of my neighbors were in sight, though I don't know what I would have done if I'd seen anyone. I had a feeling…which felt like a broken nose and a black eye…these goons weren't making idle threats.

I tried to ask them what they wanted with me and where they were taking me, but they completely ignored me, which made me even madder than I already was. I was also scared as all get out and my face hurt like hell.

After a lifetime of no excitement whatsoever, the past month had been practically nonstop thrills. I was getting pretty tired of guns being pointed at me, first at the mall and now in my own home, and I really hated all the blood, whether it was mine or someone else's. I was ready to go back to dull and boring.

I took careful mental notes of where we were driving just in case I had a chance to break away or call 911. After driving for at least a half hour, they pulled the car into a huge, nearly empty warehouse. Around the inside walls there were large metal shelves stacked high with boxes and pieces of machinery, but the center part was empty. We were in a remote area southeast of Vegas, somewhere near Henderson, I thought. The fact they didn't seem concerned I saw where they took me was disturbing, to say the least.

Yanking me out of the car, they pushed and prodded me up some steep metal stairs to a half loft at the back of the building. It took both of them to tie me to a cold metal chair, but despite my struggles at least they didn't hit me again. My arms were bound behind my back and my ankles were tied together with a length of bristly rope that really chafed my skin.

Frick and Frack then spent quite a bit of time in the enclosed office space just across from where I was sitting. I couldn't see what they were doing, but I could hear them tromping around and moving furniture. When they came back into the open loft, I noticed they closed the office door very gingerly.

They ignored me as they passed by and went down to the ground floor. I tried to wiggle my way out of the ropes, but they held tight. It seemed a waste of time to try screaming for help and I really didn't want to get beat up again. My face throbbed and my right eye was nearly swollen shut.

I guess I'd have to rethink my earlier thought that Carlos' drugging didn't have anything to do with me. Unless this was some random kidnapping, I figured I was now a hostage of some really angry person who wasn't very happy with Carlos or RangeMan.

0o0o0o0o0o

The loud sound of pounding was echoing up from downstairs, like hammers pounding nails into boards. I didn't know how long I'd been left alone, but when the third guy showed up that was when things took a turn for the worse.

I could hear him stomping up the stairs like a clumsy giant. One look at him and I knew there was something 'off' about him. He didn't look mentally deficient, but he had an evil feel to him. He was huge, but overweight and soft looking and he had long, greasy black hair. And he had the largest feet I'd ever seen. Who knew Bigfoot hung out in Henderson, Nevada?

He looked to be maybe twenty years old. He pulled up a chair in front of mine and straddled it, leering at me.

"So, you're the piece of ass the guys are talking about." He leaned over the back of his chair and fingered my swollen cheek. "I've been warned not to play with you."

He grinned and chuckled while he undid the first few buttons on my blouse. I was powerless to stop him. His grimy fingers slid over the top of my breasts above my bra line.

"Back off, bastard," I said through clenched teeth. He smelled like dirty diapers.

He laughed, "Make me." He continued unbuttoning my blouse, though the ropes held it in place across my ribs.

"You're too old for me anyhow. I like them fresh and young." He grabbed my breast and squeezed until I cried out. _Jeez! If my breast were an orange, it'd be fresh squeezed juice now._

"Nice and firm, but too small for my tastes. I like 'em big and soft so I can bite 'em." He reached for my other breast and I tried to bite his hand. He jerked back and scowled at me, but continued his sick rantings. He grinned as he got into telling me his sexual preferences.

"Dad says I'm too rough with girls. The first couple of girls I screwed kept fighting me, so I kept hitting them. When they stopped moving around, then I really went to town on them. I don't like it when they fight or scream, too much work. Dad said he was tired of disposing of them, so now he makes sure all my girls are drugged before he lets me have 'em."

Listening to him rant filled me with terror and dread. I didn't know who had me kidnapped or what they wanted, but never in my sickest imaginings would I have expected this. I was horrified. Hoping to figure a way to get myself out of this, I tried to get some information out of him. The two no-neck thugs wouldn't tell me a thing.

"Who's your father?" I asked.

Bigfoot snorted. "_You_ know who he is. He's been talking about you for a year or more. He says you're going to be my new 'mommy' when we get to our new place." He gave a nasty chuckle. "I took care of my last 'mommy.' She wasn't very nice to me. You might wanna think about that." He gave me a warning look.

I had no clue who his father was. I started to ask another question when he put his hands on me again.

"You are pretty, though. Do you shave your pussy?"

He tried to undo the top button on my jeans, but I pushed my belly out making them really tight. He stood up to move closer and shoved his hand down my pants. I gagged as the stench of his body hit me. But I wasn't about to go down without a fight, so I used the only weapon I had. I bit his shoulder as hard as I could. He jerked away from me and I was pleased I drew blood.

Without a word, he hauled off and hit me hard across the face. My head snapped back and I knew my other eye would start to swell now. I wanted to cry, but the tears wouldn't come. I was too angry. He swung back to hit me again and a loud male voice rang out behind me.

"Don't you dare touch her, Junior. She's mine. And she's going to be your new mother. I told you that. I also told you to keep your hands off her."

I knew that voice and when he strode over to confront his son, my fears were confirmed. _Harry Black!_ Oh, god, Harry was my kidnapper.

He shoved his son hard enough so that he fell back on his ass. The son cowered, even though he was bigger than his father.

Harry turned to me and his eyes widened. He knelt down in front of me and gently touched my face. He had a genuine look of concern. I was getting angrier by the minute.

"Stephanie, my god! What did they do to you?" He ran his thumb over my swollen cut lips. "I'll horsewhip them for this. They weren't supposed to harm a hair on your head. I'm sorry, my love. They will be punished."

I shouted, "Punished? They should be shot and so should you. How dare you do this to me? Why did you kidnap me, Harry?" I struggled against my restraints. "Untie me!" I demanded.

"No can do, Apple Cheeks." He turned to his son. "Go down and help with the crate. I'll deal with you later." Junior shuffled over to the stairs.

"The guys are just about finished building your crate. We need to get you packed up and on board by midnight. Don't worry, it'll just be uncomfortable for a short while. When we get to the island, you'll be treated like a queen." He buttoned my blouse back up, but not before he fondled me. At least he was gentle, unlike his ham-fisted offspring.

I would have lit into him about touching me, but what he'd said shocked me. "What are you talking about?" Panic filled my brain. "Where are you taking me…_and in a crate?"_

"It's the way I get all my girls out of the States. Been working like clockwork for a couple of years. But you're different. You're mine. So don't worry your pretty little head. I won't sell you to the highest bidder." A small grin pulled the corner of his mouth up. "You'll only have to worry about pleasing me from now on out."

He looked so smug and confident, like he was on top of the world. I struggled against my ropes, wanting nothing more than to drive my fist into his grinning face. When did I turn into this violent person?

My mind was still reeling. "I don't understand. Where are you taking me? And why?" I cried. Was he talking about sex slaves? _Oh my god! _The room started to whirl and go dark.

Harry's oily voice brought me back. "You've been a naughty girl, Steph. You knew you were my woman, but you kept flirting with other men and then you let a _Spic_ touch you, kiss you. That was unacceptable." He stood up and lifted my chin so I had to look up at him.

"You'll never do that again. I warned off the others, but Ranger Mañoso refused take the hint. He hasn't left me any choice. If I'm lucky, you'll get to see what a real man does to someone who tries to poach another man's woman." He sat down in the chair his son had vacated.

"Ranger? What does this have to do with Ranger?" My brain was racing. Black thinks I'm his woman? Did he kidnap me to keep me away from Carlos? And now we were leaving the country? With me in a crate? _Over my dead body!_

In what I hoped was a firm 'in control' voice, I said, "Let me go, Harry. I won't say a word about this if you let me go now. Just untie me and let me walk out of here."

"You can't brush me off, Stephanie. Never again. In time, you'll come to appreciate what I have to offer…_all I have to offer_." He grabbed his crotch and grinned at me.

"Morelli bragged about his dick and how you couldn't get enough of it. Well, I've seen his stick thin pencil and believe me, my huge cock will have you screaming in ecstasy."

Good God! First Carlos and now Joe. This man was insane. Who was he that he knew both Joe and Carlos? I realized he was the one who drugged Carlos…and vandalized his car and God knows what else! How long had he been stalking me? And how was I going to get away from him? _Think, Steph._

_Crap_…I had to pee.


	29. Chapter 29 Rescue Rangers

**Chapter 29—Rescue Rangers**

_Author's Note: The next two chapters contain violence to major characters. It may be hard to read about harm coming to those we love._

Ranger's POV

It was dark by the time Tank and I arrived in Henderson. We made our way to a remote area on the outskirts of town and found Lester and Bobby parked on the side of a building across the road from the warehouse. They reported no movement.

They did say there was a window on the upper back side. A light had been on earlier, but was off now. That window corresponded with the satellite image we studied earlier; it seemed the best way in.

Before gearing up, I had to say it even though I knew what their response would be.

"We have no Intel on what we'll find inside. We don't even know if Stephanie is in there. But if Black's touched one hair on her head, he's a dead man. At a minimum, this is breaking and entering; maximum…it's murder. I won't ask you to risk jail time."

"Shut up, man." Tank slammed a fist into my shoulder.

Bobby looked me straight in the eye and grunted a note of derision.

Lester was grinning and there was a gleam in his eyes. "I wouldn't miss this for anything. It's like old times."

As Rangers we always did a hand gesture/shoulder bump before each mission. This time was no different. Then the three men who'd been with me on more missions than I could count turned to the back of the SUV and geared up.

I looked at each of my brothers one last time as we prepared to go to battle against the enemy…and rescue my woman. I felt like the richest man in the world.

We moved quickly across the road to the shadows of the warehouse. Making our way to the rear, we stopped under the recessed balcony. There was an iron railing at the edge of the balcony. The metal-sided building was slick without useable handholds, so we decided to chance a grappling hook.

I went up the ropes first. It was obvious I was getting older, plus I'd put on at least ten pounds eating Steph's cooking. And it didn't help that I'd been drugged and puked all last night either. This type of thing used to be so easy for me. I was relieved it was only a two-story building when I pulled myself over the railing.

I peered in the glass door at an empty office. There was a faint light, probably coming up from the ground floor.

It took longer than I expected for the rest of the team to make it up. We were all getting older. I had the outside door to the office unlocked when Tank finally hauled his carcass over the railing.

We slipped inside the darkened room. I peeked out the small inset window in the inner door. It looked out on an open loft. There were steel supports rising up out of the floor and continuing to the ceiling. My eyes adjusted to the dim light, and I saw a dark form about thirty feet from the office. It was a person slumped in a chair. A head came up; _it was Stephanie!_

Reacting without thinking, I yanked the door handle and a bright light flashed and a deafening noise sounded. That was the last thing I remembered.

Stephanie's POV

I'd dozed off for a few minutes…or hours…I wasn't a good judge of time without a clock, but it was dark now. I was awakened by a noise and when I looked up, I swore I saw Carlos' face. My heart soared! And then there was a terrific explosion that made my ears ring. Some kind of bomb had gone off in the office. _Oh my god! _I hoped my vision of Carlos was just wishful thinking.

There was a thunderous noise on the stairs and then the lights came on in the loft. All four of my captors rushed past me to the office and looked in the window.

I shouted at them, "What happened? Was that a bomb? Damn you…talk to me."

Harry whooped and turned to me, "_We caught them!_ We caught your would-be rescuers. I was hoping he'd come looking for you before we had to leave. Now I can finish the job. Don't worry, Apple Cheeks. I'll let you say goodbye before I kill him."

"You caught who? Kill who?" I asked, already knowing…and dreading…the answer.

_No, no, no, no, no. _My heart was beating a mile a minute. My throat was dry. I felt like I was going to be sick.

One of the guys opened the door to the office and they all stepped back. I could smell something acrid. They waited a minute or two before turning on the light in that room and going in.

I watched in horror as they dragged out first Carlos and then Tank, Bobby and Lester, all unconscious. At least I hoped they were just unconscious.

I fought against my restraints, desperate to go to Carlos, to see if he was alright, but I was held fast. My arms had gone numb hours ago and every muscle ached. And my bladder was screaming at me.

Frick and Frack searched all four men as they lay unconscious on the floor. They pulled a small arsenal off each man and dumped the weapons on a nearby table.

Then Frick and Frack picked up Carlos' limp body and held him against one of the steel columns while Harry and Junior wrapped a length of rope around him securing him upright to the pillar. Then they put flexicuffs on his wrists and ankles. His head rolled from side to side as they manhandled him.

While anger surged through me at their rough treatment of him, relief countered it knowing Carlos was still alive. They wouldn't restrain him otherwise.

Seeing him like this, unconscious, with imminent death hanging over him, all I could think of was how I'd held Carlos at arm's length and had barricaded my heart against him for months. Just so I wouldn't feel a little pain. Okay, a lot of pain. To me, that's what relationships were…heartache and pain.

But now, I would give anything to feel it, because it would mean I would have had that time with him, instead of wasting it being safe, safe but alone. And now…time was running out. I never told him I loved him…never had the joy of making love to him. Fear…embarrassment…such useless emotions. _If only..._

They secured the other three RangeMen to columns until all four of my friends were tied to steel posts facing me. As much as I wanted them to wake up, I dreaded it knowing Harry and his henchmen planned to kill them.

_Fuck, fuck, fuck…FUCK!_

I couldn't believe Carlos found me. And Tank, Lester, and Bobby…risking their lives for me. How did they know where I was? Or who took me?

I knew they were security specialists, bounty hunters. I knew they'd done dangerous missions as Army Rangers and then as…whatever they did for the government afterward. Probably covert Black Ops. But I never expected them to come after me, to try to rescue me. This was different. Now they risked their lives _for me_. Now they were going to die…all because of me.

_No, dammit!_ This was because of Harry…slimy, delusional Harry Black.

If it was the last thing I did, I would avenge their deaths and it would be worth my own as long as I took Harry Black with me. Maybe fear had its purpose after all. Fear channeled into cold murderous rage. Amazing how your entire outlook on life can change in a few short hours. Taking long slow breaths, I bided my time, my eyes fixed on Carlos' still form.

It didn't take long for the guys to come around. They looked dazed in the bright overhead light and began to struggle against their ropes.

Carlos' head snapped up and when he saw me an indescribable look crossed his face. I saw tenderness, pain and then rage as our eyes locked. Another thing we now had in common.

I knew what he saw when he looked at my face. My right eye was swollen shut and my left wasn't far behind. I probably had bruises darkening all over my face. My lip was cut and bleeding and blood had dripped from my swollen nose down my neck to my chest. I thought my nose was broken. I'm sure I wasn't a pretty sight.

I didn't know how much time we had left. "_Carlos_, I'm sorry. It's all my fault. _I'm so sorry_."

All I could think about was losing him. My rage was overwhelmed by my pain, my regret…another useless emotion. I started crying. He struggled against his bonds even harder.

"Babe, _lo siento_. Te he fallado." [_I'm sorry. I failed you_.] There was agony in his voice, but just hearing it gave me strength. I pulled myself together.

His eyes never left me, but the look on his face was one of anguish. Then Harry moved between us and Carlos' anger came surging out. He started cursing at Harry.

Harry strutted over and let Carlos rant for a while and then he swung back his fist and hit him hard in the face. He followed it with several punches to Carlos' abdomen. I reeled with each blow, wishing I could take them instead of him.

"That's for daring to put your dirty brown hands on my woman. Think you're tough stuff, eh? Well, you won't think so after I get done with you."

He slammed his fist into Carlos' face over and over until his knuckles were bleeding. I kept screaming for Harry to stop. My sobs got louder as Carlos' head dropped forward on his chest. He was out again. My stomach lurched and I began dry heaving.

While Harry had been beating Carlos, Harry's son was doing the same to Tank. Shouts and insults were flying back and forth between both groups of men and then the two mobster wannabes started using Lester and Bobby as punching bags. Soon, all four of my friends were beaten unconscious.

I closed my eyes unable to witness any more violence. I felt true hate for the first time in my life. I realized how weak my past 'hates' were in comparison to the emotion I was experiencing now.

"_Coward!_ Hitting a man who can't defend himself. You're afraid of him, aren't you? You're all cowards. Good for nothing, mother fucking cowards." I screamed at all of them.

Harry squatted down close to me. I struggled to get at him, wanting to rip him apart. Unable to do anything else, I spit in his face. I expected, wanted, him to hit me, but he just closed his eyes for a minute and wiped the spittle off.

"You're going to need to learn some respect, Stephanie. I'll give you a little grace time because I know all this is new to you. But let that be a warning."

Hearing him speak brought me back to reality. There had to be a way out of this. I needed to calm down and be ready to take advantage of the slightest opportunity.

"I'm sorry if that was hard to watch. But after having to watch him with you, dancing so close together, his hands all over you, I deserved a little retribution. Men need to get physical at times."

He licked the blood off his knuckles and then stroked my cheek. I shuddered, knowing some of that blood was Carlos'.

"I forgive you for turning me away before, but from now on out _you will be true to me_. I do not react well to disloyalty." He leaned down and kissed me. My stomach lurched again and I gagged on bile. Harry stood up.

"Mañoso has to go. It has to be this way. He'd come looking for us if I didn't stop him. I can't have that. I've planned this for too long. It started out as revenge, but then I fell in love with you, Apple Cheeks."

He leaned forward and kissed me again. I started dry heaving again. It made me wish I'd just eaten a big Italian dinner.

I had no idea what he was talking about…revenge…for what? I tried to reason with him.

"Harry, it won't work. You'll never get away with this. If you kill these men, not only will the authorities come looking for you, but so will their friends. You can't run forever."

"I told you I have it all planned out. We're never coming back. The place we're going to has no extradition policy and, besides, I'll just be an honest businessman bringing money into an impoverished country. We'll be safe."

"You're crazy if you think this will work." I looked into his eyes and knew he was crazy…stark raving loony-tunes.

"Crazy like a fox. I've got our island hideaway all set up. I can continue to do business down there and you and I will have the ideal life. It's a paradise for a rich man and I'm a very rich man now. You won't have to lift a finger. We'll have servants to do everything for us. Your only job will be to please me. And I know I can please you. You'll see…it'll be great."

He looked over his shoulder at Carlos' still form. "I just need to take care of this one last problem." He stood up and rolled his shoulders. Fear shot through me and I couldn't help myself. I begged.

"No, Harry, please don't kill him. Just leave them here and let's go. I'll be anyone you want me to be. I'll do anything you want me to do, if you will just leave him be."

Harry chuckled, "You'll do _everything_ I want, no matter what." He stroked my cheek, then chucked me under the chin. Just his touch on my skin made me shudder.

"Junior, watch over them. When they wake up, call me. And you be nice to Stephanie. She's important to me. I want you to wash her face, clean her up a bit, but no groping. You hear me?" He glared at his son.

Junior looked at his dad, then glared at me.

"Well?" his father waited.

"Yeh, I hear ya," Junior grunted.

Harry, Frick and Frack filed down the stairs and soon I heard more nails being pounded into my coffin…er, crate.

Junior shuffled over and stared down at me. "Shit, your face is a mess. You aren't looking so pretty now."

I could imagine just how ugly I was. And it was this bastard I had to thank for it. Rhino rage threatened to take over and then I saw movement from Carlos. I was his only hope. I needed a plan.

"Junior, your dad told you to clean me up. And I need to pee. Let me use the restroom and then I can wash my face." I was hoping he'd buy it.

"Uh unh. I'd have to untie you."

"Come on. I really have to use the bathroom. Your father told you to take care of me. Letting me use the bathroom to pee is taking care of me and I can wash my own face. You shouldn't have to do women's work like that." I mentally crossed my fingers.

He looked doubtful. I started squirming and fidgeting. "Please, Junior. You don't want to have to clean up my pee, do you?"

That got him moving. He untied me, none too gently. As he was bent over me, I saw all four of my guys look up at me. I winked. Their eyes widened. I winked again.

Junior helped me up when it was obvious I was too stiff to walk on my own. The guys' heads were all down when we walked by.

There was a small spartan bathroom in the office. Junior shoved me in and then leaned against the door, staring at me. His massive frame filled the open doorway. Even though he didn't look like he was in very good condition, he was as big a man as Tank.

"Shut the door. I'm not going with you staring at me."

He didn't move; he just grinned evilly.

"Fine." I dropped my jeans and sat down and peed. Like I said, I really had to go. At least Junior didn't try anything.

I moved over to the sink, washed my hands and used paper towels to wash off the worst of the dried blood. I also drank some water. I'd been tied up for most of the day without anything to eat or drink.

"You look a lot better, bitch." Junior stepped in and shut the bathroom door. He grabbed me from behind, his huge sweaty palm covering my mouth.

"Now, we're going to have a little fun. And you aren't going to tell my father or the next time I won't be so gentle." His other hand was unbuttoning my jeans.


	30. Chapter 30 Now or Never

**Chapter 30—Now or Never**

_Author's Note: This chapter also has some violence, but I don't think too many readers will mind as much as in the previous chapter. Also, the website isn't allowing me to answer any of your comments through the normal process. I hope it is fixed soon. Only one more chapter after this one. Thanks for reading through to the end. _

Stephanie's POV

I tried to scream and then bite his hand, but the way Junior had his palm cupped over my mouth I couldn't sink my teeth into him. In desperation, I smashed my boot heel down on his instep and he released me. I knew I couldn't beat him in a fair fight, but I figured he didn't deserve a fair fight.

_It was now or never._

I whirled around and brought my knee up as fast as I could and plowed it into his groin. As he doubled over, I drove the heel of my right hand into his nose hitting him with all the force I could muster. He dropped on the spot.

I didn't know if I'd just knocked him out or if I'd killed him, but I felt sick to my stomach either way. I remembered Joe once telling me that you could kill a man by driving his nose cartilage into his brain. I didn't want to think too much about it. I jumped over his body, pushed open the bathroom door and moved into the office.

My thoughts were focused on getting to Carlos and untying him, but I took a quick glance around the office. I'd thought a bomb had gone off in here, but it must have just been a stun grenade. Everything looked in place. There wasn't much to look at. A desk, a chair and a file cabinet. Sitting on top of the cabinet was a vase of dead flowers. Dead, long-stemmed pink carnations. A wave of disgust filled me. I couldn't believe Harry had followed me to Cady's grave and stole her flowers. Was nothing sacred to this psycho?

I raced out of the office to the open loft. The guys were all alert, though they looked like hell. Their faces were now swollen, turning black and blue and they were dripping blood from several cuts to their faces. I knew they had to be in pain after taking so many unprotected blows to their ribs and abdomens.

The two thugs had removed all their weapons when they were unconscious and dumped them on a worktable in the corner of the loft. I ran to the table and grabbed a big knife. Racing back to a now very awake Carlos, I proceeded to cut off his ropes and flexicuffs.

He whispered, "Babe, I don't know what you did, but that was brilliant, getting him to untie you. Did you lock him in the bathroom?"

I shook my head, unable to look Carlos in the eye. Just the thought I might have killed a man had me feeling sick to my stomach. As his hands were released Carlos hugged me. I wanted to sink into him and shut out the world, but it wasn't over yet. I couldn't stop myself from tensing up.

His mouth pressed against my ear, he tried to reassure me, "Hold on, just a little while longer. I'll take care of everything, Babe."

He ran to the table and tucked several guns on his body. As much as he had to be hurting, I noticed he ran on the balls of his feet, keeping as quiet as possible. He picked up another knife and raced to Lester. I started work on Tank's ropes. Carlos had both Lester and Bobby freed by the time I finished with Tank.

While the three others reequipped themselves with their weapons, Carlos disappeared into the office. He returned five seconds later, a big grin on his face. I was afraid to ask if he was happy because I'd managed to knock out my captor or because Junior was truly dead.

He rushed over to me and held me tightly. Just feeling his strong arms around me filled me with the calmness I needed to continue.

There was so much I wanted to say, but I knew we still weren't out of the woods. I lightly touched his swollen, cut lips. "I can't believe you came for me, that you found me. I'm so sorry I got you into this. He's crazy. Harry Black's crazy. He plans to kill you and ship me in a crate to an island hideaway. He…"

He shushed me and touched my cut lip. "Don't worry about Black. I'll take care of him. And, Babe, _I'll always come for you_."

Stepping back, he looked into my ugly swollen face and touched his fingers to my injuries. His caress was feather light. The look in his eyes was an adoring one and I melted under his gaze.

Whispering in Spanish, he murmured, "Oh, Babe. ¿Qué hicieron para tú? Voy a matar por esta. Nadie hace daño a mi mujer. [_What did they do to you? I'll kill them for this. No one hurts my woman._] I had no idea what he was saying, but it was with a lot of passion. Then he switched over to English.

In a quiet voice, he said those three words that took all my pain away. "Proud of you, Babe. I can't believe you took out that Italian Bigfoot all by yourself. Without your quick thinking, this could have been a FUBAR rescue. You never cease to amaze me. Now it's my turn. I have a score to settle with Mr. Harry Black and his henchmen. Promise me you'll stay up here?" Carlos' tender look turned stern.

I snorted and said in a low voice, "I told you I wouldn't be 'the little woman.' You're not leaving me behind while you _take care of the problem_. It's my problem, too."

I could see him struggling with what to say to me next. His jaw tightened as he whispered, "It's going to get ugly. I don't want you exposed to that."

"Too late. I've already seen ugly, now I want to see it getting its ass whupped." I set my jaw firm to match his.

His eyes searched mine and I could sense an argument coming. Then I felt Tank, Lester and Bobby step up behind me. Carlos glanced over my shoulder at them and closed his eyes for a second. Blowing out a big breath, he reached down to his ankle, removed a small pistol and placed it in my hand. A look of surprise flitted across my face.

"Do you know how to use it?" he asked.

I nodded. With Joe being a cop, there were always guns in the house. Joe made me go to the shooting range once a year to prove I knew how to load, unload and fire multiple weapons. I hated guns, but I knew how to use them.

"Stay behind me and stay low. Hit the deck if they start shooting." His look told me not to argue.

We crept down the stairs trying to be as quiet as possible. There was little cover in the warehouse, nothing to hide behind. At least the lighting was dim, but it was overhead and created weird shadows. Three vehicles were parked in the middle of the cavernous space. Harry and his two hired hands were unloading boxes out of the trunks of the two town cars. Probably making room for four large bodies they expected to have to dump somewhere in the desert. I shuddered when I saw the third vehicle, a truck loaded with a large wooden crate. My transportation to 'paradise.'

We got to the bottom in record time and Carlos pointed to me and then to a large metal box under the staircase. I ducked behind it. Peering over the box through the open stairs, I watched Carlos, Tank, Bobby and Lester spread out across the floor, each moving in his own stealthy fashion. Stealth and speed were their only chance. What happened next was fast and furious.

One of the thugs, I think it was Frick, had been stacking boxes in a corner of the warehouse, but must have heard something. He spun around gun in hand, aiming it at Carlos.

Quicker than I could ever imagine him moving, Tank ran behind him and just as quickly snapped his neck. My stomach lurched. This sweet gentle man who'd been so tender with me had just killed a man with his bare hands.

I knew all our lives depended on stopping these men, but I wasn't expecting…_oh hell_…I had no idea what I expected.

At the same time, Frack was at the other end of the warehouse being stalked by Bobby and Lester. Harry raised his head out from the car trunk and spotted Lester and Bobby. He let out a yell and pulled a gun from his shoulder holster. Frack turned and also pulled a gun, firing at Lester.

The reverberating crack of the gunshot startled me and I smacked my head on the stair rung. I blinked and things happened fast. I couldn't see where everyone was. I stepped out with my gun drawn. All I saw was each man had his gun drawn, too. And then it was chaos.

Everyone fired at once and Frack went down bleeding from multiple gunshot wounds to his chest. Lester stood guard over the fallen man while Bobby checked for a pulse. I could tell he didn't find one. A tiny bit of tension left me.

Carlos had shot the gun out of Harry's hand and then quickly crossed the distance between them. Carlos got in the first punch, but Harry was no slouch. They looked well matched at least as far as size went. My heart was in my throat as the two men grappled with each other. It looked like a mix between boxing and karate with punches and kicks being thrown in rapid succession.

I felt each blow that struck Carlos. He was still recovering from being drugged and he'd already taken such a beating, but at least now he could defend himself. Both men were past their prime when it came to this kind of extreme fighting, but neither slowed down. The fight seemed to go on forever. Carlos' three friends stood on the sidelines watching. My heart was in my throat.

Extending himself with a sweeping roundhouse kick, Carlos knocked Harry's feet out from under him and then they were rolling on the floor. It was obvious Carlos was the better wrestler and he was soon on top. After raining blow after blow to Harry's face, Carlos began pounding Harry's head into the cement. His face was filled with a murderous rage, awful to behold.

I thought I wanted this, but I couldn't bear to watch any more. I had to turn away. Tank and Bobby saw the fight had turned into a one-sided beating and ran over to pull Carlos off. They really had to struggle with him to pull him away and then hold him long enough for Carlos to calm down. Harry wasn't moving.

Bobby knelt down and placed his fingers on Harry's neck. He looked up at Carlos and shook his head. Carlos didn't look remorseful, but he did look surprised. He shook his head back at Bobby, frowning. Bobby continued to examine Harry's body.

I'd stayed by the stairs this whole time trying not to get in the way. But when Carlos turned around and held his arms out, I ran. He wrapped me in a tight embrace and tucked his head into my neck. He was breathing hard, whether from physical exertion or leftover rage, I didn't know. He was gentle with me. I still had his gun in my hand. I held it out and he stuck it back in his ankle holster.

"Babe, it's over."

Yes, it was over. And four men were dead. I killed one of them and was responsible for the deaths of the other three. I couldn't wrap my head around it. I didn't know if I ever would. How could someone become so obsessed with another person without even knowing them? Harry had been planning all this for months, if not longer. It didn't make any sense.

I couldn't be strong anymore. Tears wouldn't come, but my muscles felt like silly putty and my bones like limp spaghetti. Carlos caught me as I crumpled. He swept me up in his strong arms even as I protested. He been badly beaten earlier and just took several more hard blows to his body. He shouldn't be carrying me, but it felt so good to be in his arms. It felt like home.

Carlos moved over to lean against one of the cars, his only tell that he was tired, too. Tank called the police to report a kidnapping, giving my home address to check out. Then he told them about the deaths of the kidnappers at the warehouse. He was careful to explain the deaths were the result of self-defense. He also called Ram and reported in. Finally, he called the RangeMan lawyer and asked him to join us at the warehouse. Lester was looking around the warehouse, peeking into boxes and cabinets, careful not to leave fingerprints.

I knew we had a long night ahead of us and when the police got here, some very hard questions to answer.

"Carlos, as much as I love being in your arms, I can stand on my own. Put me down."

"Not yet, Babe. You've proven time and time again you can stand on your own, but I love holding you. I love being here for you. And I intend to go on supporting you in any way I can." He gave me a short tender kiss, avoiding the cut on my lower lip.

"Babe, I thought I lost you. I don't think I could bear to let you out of my arms right now."

For a man of few words, he could sure pick the right ones. I guess I was going to stay in his arms awhile longer. I snuggled in for the long haul.

Bobby had finished his exam of Harry's body. "There's an entry wound in his chest. My best guess without being able to exam him further is that a bullet hit his heart with blood filling the protective sac which compressed the heart, or it nicked an artery and he bled out internally. Even without you two fighting, he probably would have been dead within minutes."

"Whose bullet was it?" Tank asked.

"Have to wait for the autopsy," Bobby answered.

As if on cue, the first police car showed up. Carlos finally let me stand on my own two feet. It was the Henderson police. Soon the Las Vegas police joined them.

The officers approached cautiously, guns drawn. Their eyes got big as each of the four men removed a small arsenal from his body. Several of the Las Vegas officers knew all four of the RangeMen, which made the first few minutes go easier.

Carlos explained what happened and showed them the four dead men. Then they separated us for questioning. We answered the same questions over and over. I was beginning to think they doubted our story even though we were the ones with bleeding chafe marks on our wrists and ankles and it was obvious each of us had been beaten many times.

Detectives and the medical examiner arrived and they painstakingly began to document the crime scene and gather evidence. We all had our injuries photographed. I nearly lost it when I saw all the cuts and deep bruises on the guys' bodies. Carlos' were by far the worst. They just seemed to shrug it off.

The investigation and 'interrogation' went on and on and things weren't looking good until one last car arrived. I recognized the silhouette before I saw the face. The other policemen moved back and let Joe through.


	31. Chapter 31 It's FunnyFate

**Chapter 31—It's Funny…Fate**

Stephanie's POV

When Joe saw me and my swollen, black and blue face, I thought he was going to be sick. Instead, he wrapped his arms around me and exhaled deeply, like he'd been holding his breath for ages. He looked shaken. I gently disengaged myself from his embrace. Like we had a month ago, we just stared at each other.

"_Oh my god_, are you okay? Do you need medical care_? _ You look horrible, Stephanie." He brought his hand up to touch my swollen cheek, but I flinched and stepped back. Joe winced at my reaction.

"It looks worse than it is. What are you doing here, Joe?" I waited for an answer, but none was forthcoming. Joe looked guilty.

I had to say it. "_He knew you_. Harry Black knew you. He said you'd talked to him about me…intimate things. Is that true? How did he know you?"

"Steph, I'm so sorry. Sorry you got involved in this mess." Joe rubbed his jaw and chin, dark and scruffy with more than a five o'clock shadow.

"Talk to me, Joe. How are you involved with Harry Black?" I know my voice sounded shrill, but, so help me, after what I'd been through my patience was wearing thin. I didn't want to believe Joe had anything to with it, but why would Harry Black know Joe?

He explained, "We've been investigating Black for over a year for gambling fraud, money laundering and most disgustingly, human slave trading. He's the reason I've been coming to Vegas…gathering enough evidence so we could indict him. We were close…real close. When I heard that four Palace Casino employees had been killed during a kidnapping attempt and one of them was Harry Black, I was relieved. And then I heard your name and I stopped breathing."

His voice was a little ragged. He reached his hand out to touch my face, but I stepped back. Joe shut his eyes and swallowed. "It didn't occur to me that Black would come after _you_. He did this to get revenge on me."

"Revenge on you…for what? Because you were _investigating_ him?" I asked, remembering Harry said this started as revenge.

"No. It started years before the investigation." Joe ran his hand through his hair. "Steph, Harry was my partner for four years when I first moved back to Trenton. We both worked vice. I used to talk about you, how much I missed you and being married to you. I must have put you on his radar. He knew how much you meant to me."

Joe opened his arms a little, but when I crossed mine over my chest he let his drop to his side. I knew how much Joe wanted to hold me, to reassure himself I was alright, but I just couldn't do it. I needed answers, not comfort. Joe could read me like a book and he backed off.

"I found out Black was a dirty cop and I turned him in. He went to prison because of me. When I got off the witness stand at his trial, he shouted to me he would get even, that he would make me rue the day I 'betrayed' him. I never thought it would come to this. You were in Vegas and we'd been divorced for years. If he wanted revenge, I figured he'd come directly after me. I never thought he'd use you to get to me. If Harry was after you, it's my fault. I'm so sorry, Cupcake."

The pieces were finally starting to fall into place. I stared at Joe, seeing how utterly miserable he was. I'd never seen such a look of despair on his face, except when we lost Cady.

"Joe, this wasn't your fault. This was all Harry's doing…his sick, perverted sense of justice. It's over. I just want to go home, but they won't let us. Can you help with that?"

"Yeah, sure. I'll talk to the local PD. Thanks, Steph…uh, one question?" He glanced over where Carlos was standing with Tank.

"What's your relationship to Ranger Mañoso?" He looked intently at me.

"He's my friend. All four of these men are my friends. They're the only reason I'm still here tonight. They saved my life."

"Friend? Is that all Mañoso is to you?"

I knew without a doubt exactly what Carlos 'Ranger' Mañoso was to me. "I love him, Joe."

Carlos' attention had been riveted on us, but he'd kept his distance as Joe and I talked. Now he was standing just over Joe's shoulder. He had on a 200-watt smile.

"You love me?" he asked, still smiling.

I stepped around Joe and stood directly in front of Carlos. "Yes, I love you," I declared.

Even though the warehouse was filled with law enforcement officers, all I was aware of was the man in front of me. My public confession earned me a crushing bear hug and then a crushing kiss. Both our lips started bleeding again, but it was worth it.

"Te amo, Babe. I love you, too." And he kissed me again, this time more gently. "I feel like I've been waiting for you my entire life."

"So, after all Harry did to try to scare you away, you hung in there and finally won the girl?"

"Nothing could keep me away from you, Babe."

"I thought I was jinxed. That no man would ever want me again. After my divorce, no man would give me a second look. I just gave up…until you came along."

Joe moved into my line of sight and gave me a wave. "You weren't jinxed. That was me, Steph."

He gave Carlos a polite nod. "Joe Morelli, Steph's ex." Carlos didn't let go of me, but he did acknowledge Joe with a clipped, "Carlos Mañoso."

Joe turned to look at me. "I'm ashamed of my actions now, but back then I truly thought we'd get back together, in spite of the divorce. I thought we were just in one of our 'off' phases," Joe said, looking a little sheepish.

"What are you talking about?" I asked.

"I kept watch over you. Cupcake, you were so depressed for so long, I was worried about you. Then you started your business and seemed like your old self again. I thought we had a chance." Joe looked down at his feet and then threw his hands out. He never could talk for long without his Italian hand gestures.

"When I heard you had a date with another man, I got jealous. I talked to him and 'explained' we were trying to work things out and just needed a little time. The guy backed off. So I did it with several other guys who showed interest in you. After you turned me down for the umpteenth time, I finally realized how unfair I was being to you, but I knew I couldn't watch you be with another man. That's when I decided to move back to Trenton."

My jaw dropped. "All those men who never asked me for a second date? All those men who stood me up? That was you?" Joe gave me an apologetic look, his eyes pleading for forgiveness.

I didn't know what to say to that. I kept thinking how devastated I'd been to think no man would ever want me again. It had been a pivotal moment in my life and not a good one. I was starting to see red, when Carlos reached out to shake Joe's hand.

"I want to thank you, Morelli. If you hadn't done that, Stephanie could have married someone else and I might never have found her." Carlos smiled at me. "Though I believe we were meant to be together."

Until he said that last sentence, I'd wanted to hit both of them. But I couldn't resist smiling back at Carlos.

Joe looked from me to Carlos and back to me again, watching us grin like lovesick fools at each other.

He shook his head. "I guess we're really over, Cupcake."

I pulled my eyes away from Carlos long enough to say, "You have _no idea_, Joe."

I was still debating whether to punch him in the nose. I finally decided there'd been too much violence already. I rolled my eyes at him instead and scratched my cheek with my middle finger extended.

Joe stared at me for the longest time, before glancing at Carlos and nodding. He walked over to the Vegas and Henderson police gathered around the town cars. They were counting stacks of Harry's 'laundered' money. Carlos' lawyer had arrived just after Joe. The lawyer, Joe and two of the police officers talked at length. Finally, the cop in charge came over and told us we were free to leave, but to stay in Las Vegas. We knew this was just the beginning of a longer investigation.

We wasted no time and walked across the road to the RangeMan vehicles. Before we got in, Lester carefully hugged me, trying hard not to disturb any of my bruises and also protect his ribs. "You're one in a million, Tiger. You were terrific. I'll follow you anywhere because I know the ride will be a wild one. I had a blast."

"You're a nut, Les. I don't want any more excitement like that for the rest of my life. But I'm sure glad you joined our little party and that you lived to enjoy it. Thank you for coming to rescue me. I guess you no longer owe me a favor." I kissed him on the only unbruised spot on his cheek.

"You can always ask me for a favor. Anything you want, Tiger." Lester gave me one of his suggestive smiles, then winced as it reopened his cut lip.

Bobby was next. He took my hands in his and advised, "Steph, I think you should go to the ER and get checked out."

"No, no, no. No hospitals. I'm fine, Bobby. I just need a little healing time and let nature take its course."

"Well, at least come back to RangeMan and let me treat you for the worst of it, okay?" he prodded.

Carlos stepped in. "Bobby's right. If you won't go to the hospital, I insist you let Bobby check you out."

"What about _all of you_? You had it much worse than I did. Who checks you guys out?" I huffed.

Seeing me start to get worked up, Tank jumped into the fray. "Bobby's a medical doctor, Steph. He takes care of all of us. Ram has had a lot of medical training, and he'll check Bobby out. Satisfied?"

I backed off. "Okay. I can live with that. Bobby, I can't thank you enough for everything you did for me tonight. I'm glad you're my friend." I kissed his cheek and he kissed my forehead.

"Now, get me outta here. If I never see Henderson again, it'll suit me just fine," I said.

Carlos opened the back door to the SUV and helped me in. He slid in next to me and put his arm around my shoulders. Tank climbed in the driver's seat and we were off, Lester and Bobby following in their vehicle. I leaned forward and draped my arms around Tank's neck.

"Thank you, too, my very dear friend. You've earned a lifetime of free dinners at Cady's and all the cupcakes you can eat. I don't know what I'd do without you." I laid my cheek next to his. Tank patted my head.

Then I snuggled back into Carlos' shoulder, careful not to touch his bruised ribs. Carlos kissed the top of my head and slowly stroked my arm. I think we both needed to reassure ourselves the ordeal was over and we were both okay. We sat together quietly for at least ten minutes, none of us talking, not even Tank.

My body may have been still, but my mind was racing. I replayed the terrible parts of the last day and started to panic a little. I immediately clamped down on those thoughts.

Trying to concentrate on the positive, I realized I'd finally told Carlos I loved him and he said he loved me. That meant a real relationship. I thought about how my life would change now that I'd have to factor in another person's wants and needs. I'd been alone for so long and had become set in my ways.

I'd been dreading letting any man see me naked or get into bed with me. Actually, the thought had petrified me before. Now, after today, I couldn't wait. All those fears about my 'aging' body didn't seem too important anymore. And I couldn't imagine being embarrassed with Carlos. Not after all we shared. I nearly lost him. I wanted to hold him forever. I wanted to get as close to him as two people in love could get. He must have read my thoughts.

"Babe, when Bobby's finished treating you, do you want me to take you to your house or would you consider staying with me?" Carlos asked, speaking in a low voice though I figured Tank could still hear us.

"You mean, stay with you in your apartment?"

He nodded. I kept my face tucked into his shoulder, but I was grinning to beat the band. I asked, "You'll let me come back to RangeMan and make sure Bobby checks you over?"

Carlos nodded.

"You'll let me be with you even if you're hurt and in pain?"

"Babe."

"Just making sure."

"I will never turn you away again."

"Even if Joe comes to you and tries to convince you I belong with him?"

"I would _never_ send you back to Morelli. I'm not a fool, Babe. You've always belonged to me. I felt it the minute we met."

"It's funny…fate," I said. "If I hadn't joined that group of Cady's Kids painting that fence, we'd never have met."

"I'll do you one better. We both grew up in New Jersey and we're the same age. We could have met at anytime…at the beach one summer, at a sports event, or at a local restaurant."

"As a bounty hunter!" I exclaimed. "You do that kind of work, don't you? My cousin owns a bail bonds company in Trenton. I always thought that sounded exciting. I could have become a bounty hunter and we might have met that way."

"Babe. _Really…_"

"We might have." I looked up. "McDonalds!" I cried.

"We would _never_ have met at McDonalds. I don't eat junk food." Carlos chuckled.

"No, there's a McDonalds up ahead. Tank, pull in. I'm starving. I haven't had anything to eat in nearly 24 hours." To underscore the point, my stomach rumbled so loudly even Tank heard it.

"Tiger, we'd better feed that beast before it breaks free." Tank pulled into the drive-thru lane, Bobby and Lester right behind us. I turned around to look at the guys and Lester was wearing a huge grin. I'm sure he was thinking about Ranger eating a Big Mac.

Since it was daybreak, I got an Egg McMuffin, hash browns and a coffee with cream and sugar. Tank got three Sausage Egg McMuffins, three hash browns, an orange juice and a black coffee. Carlos got scrambled eggs, fresh fruit and water.

I inhaled the fried hunk of hash browns first. "That stuff will kill you," Carlos said.

"After what I just lived through, I'm willing to chance it. Today's my lucky day." I smiled, biting into my Egg McMuffin. I downed it in a few large bites.

The sun was just coming up. It was going to be a beautiful day in Las Vegas. Of course, I doubted if I would see any of it. I planned to spend the entire day in bed and not just sleeping. Like I said, today was my lucky day and I planned on getting very lucky. Many times.

We were still about ten minutes out from RangeMan. I wasn't content just snuggling anymore. My lips found their way to the sensitive spot behind Carlos' ear and I kissed and licked him. A low growl sounded from Carlos' throat. I increased the pressure of my kisses and sucked his skin into my mouth, biting down just a little. His growl deepened.

His hand moved from my arm to my tummy and he lightly rubbed me there. That was definitely one of my erogenous zones and I was soon breathing a little faster. I had a fluttery feeling in my stomach and the lower his hand went, the lower the butterflies moved. Soon a familiar ache started in my core and I knew there was only one thing that would make the ache go away.

I remembered what I'd felt pressed against my stomach during our Christmas make-out session in the restroom, and I wanted to know if he was all he seemed to be. I'd always had way too much curiosity for my own good. But mainly, I wanted to tease him and pay him back for leading me on that day.

I slipped my hand into his waistband and reached for it. I didn't have far to reach. It met me and, _oh my god,_ I was _so getting lucky today_. I mean, really lucky in a 'big' way. It wasn't rolled up socks he had down there. I also got the answer to another question…not boxers, not briefs, but commando.

As I grabbed hold, Carlos sucked in a huge breath of air. I wrapped my hand around his cock, at least as far as I could and lightly squeezed. Carlos dropped his head back and closed his eyes, a low moan escaping his lips. "_Oh, Babe_. Que se siente tan bien." [_That feels so good_.]

He let me continue stroking him for about fifteen seconds before he whispered in my ear. "It really pains me to say this, but seriously, if you don't stop that right now, I won't be responsible for what happens next. And then Tank's going to get quite an eyeful."

In the morning light, I could see his eyes darken from brown to nearly black and his look change from loving to predatory. His hand was now tightly cupping my mound. I was already in a state and the pressure from his fingertips was indescribable. I nearly came on the spot.

I grinned and slowly…regretfully…withdrew my hand. "Payback's a bitch, huh?" I teased. He looked puzzled for a moment and then smiled. In spite of his injured ribs, he hugged me tightly to him.

"Wait till it's my turn to tease you," he whispered and let his fingers do his talking. I felt a rush of wetness between my thighs.

Tank had been silent all this time, but he finally spoke up, exasperation rasping his voice. "If you two don't quit that right now, I'm going to stop this car in the middle of the street and walk away. It's not a hotel room, for chrissakes."

I giggled. Carlos chuckled. Tank scowled, but kept driving. He pulled into the RangeMan garage and as soon as he parked and turned off the engine he was out of there. Lester and Bobby pulled in next to us and got out to wait. Carlos waved them on. Lester came over to open the door, but when he saw where Carlos' hand was he veered away and headed for the stairs. We were finally alone.

And Carlos wanted to talk. _Great!_

"The past twenty-four hours have been really fucked up, Babe, and I know you must be exhausted and in pain. If you just want to sleep for a while, I'll understand. No pressure."

My mind started racing. Did he say that for my benefit, to give me a way out or was he really too badly injured and needed some time to recuperate?

"How about we let Bobby do his thing and you let me take a hot shower. Then we'll crawl into that big bed of yours and see how we feel."

As I spoke I placed my hand on his crotch, to let him know what I wanted. With a huge grin, he grabbed my hand and pulled me out of the vehicle. We walked briskly to the elevators. The door closed behind us and he hit three.

"Bobby's office," he explained. He held my hand, but kept the rest of his body away from me. He was taking deep breaths and not looking at me. I swear he was fidgeting. I think I made my point.

Bobby checked us over and put some butterfly bandaids on the deepest of Carlos' wounds, but there wasn't much to do for the bruises and smaller cuts. Luckily, none of Carlos' ribs were cracked. Bobby examined my face, pressing on all the painful swollen parts. He finally told me my nose wasn't broken and the swelling would go down in a few days. He gave us some flexible ice packs and sent us on our way.

The look in Carlos' eyes as we left Bobby's office had me wet with desire. But it seemed we were running an endless gauntlet of delays. Ducky stopped us before we reached the elevators.

"Ranger, Stephanie…I am delighted to see you both. _Oh my_…Ram told me all five of you had suffered a serious beating, but I never imagined. How are you holding up?" Ducky was being solicitous, but all I wanted was to get upstairs and be alone with Carlos.

"I'm fine, Ducky. Nothing a little time won't heal." I started to move on.

Ducky put his hand on my forearm. "My dear, you've been through quite a trauma. I insist we talk."

"Okay, Ducky. But not now. If you'll excuse us, all I really want is to take a shower and wash the last twenty-four hours off me."

"I'll expect you Monday then, tomorrow morning."

Both Ranger and I shouted simultaneously, "NO!"

Ranger continued in a quieter voice, "Steph will see you first thing _Tuesday_ morning. Would that fit in your schedule, Ducky?"

Ducky studied both our faces before answering. "_Ah!_ Yes. Tuesday morning will be fine."

I blushed as I saw a smile play across Ducky's face. It was like having your father catch you in the act. I shouldn't be embarrassed. I was a grown woman. Carlos and I were both unattached and consenting adults. But just knowing that Ducky knew what we'd be doing shortly had my stomach filling with butterflies. Or maybe Carlos and his magic touch created the butterflies. Whatever…I felt like a schoolgirl, again. But first…a shower.

Carlos practically dragged me down the hall to the elevator. When the doors opened, he scooped me up and hit seven, all in one smooth move. Letting me slide down his body, he pressed me against the back wall. With a ferocity that had my heart beating triple time, his lips crashed down on mine as his hands stroked me everywhere. I was quickly on sensory overload.

I didn't push him away, but I did come up briefly for air. Breathing heavily, I said, "I thought I was going to get to take a hot shower?" As much as I wanted to continue, I needed to wash off the horrors of the past day.

The elevator doors opened on a small anteroom. Walking me backwards, Carlos guided me to the door to his apartment. I leaned with my back against the door while he pulled a key fob out of his pocket and hit one of the buttons, his other hand stroking my throat.

Gently, he pinned me to the door with his body and my arms wound themselves around his neck. Whispering in my ear, he murmured, "About that shower, I demand a do-over. Our first shower together wasn't my best work. I hope you'll give me another chance." He began nibbling on my earlobe.

In mock seriousness, I replied, "I don't know. A good shower is important to me."

Carlos grinned at me, "I give great shower, Babe."

"Oh yeah, what are your shower credentials then?" I teased.

He molded his body to mine and I could feel his entire hard length pressing into my stomach. It was one pretty impressive credential all by itself.

Carlos could be very persuasive when he wanted something. "I have a black belt in lathering and I won the gold 'Squeaky Clean' award ten years in a row. I also hold the Guinness world record for 'lasting the longest' after the hot water runs out." I could feel his warm breath on my neck and when he let his lips touch my skin, I let out a moan. I gave myself a quick shake.

"I'm impressed, but…" I pretended to think it over, letting a frown crease my face, "I've been showering alone for a long time now and I have certain standards to uphold." My hands were stroking the back of his neck and playing with his hair.

"Put yourself in my capable hands and you'll never go back to showering alone again. And as for your shower massager," he let his hands drop to my ass, "I'll make it obsolete, a thing of the past. Just give me this one chance." He slowly massaged each cheek, driving me crazy.

"I don't know…" I drawled, letting my mouth trail a line of kisses from his ear down his neck to the top of his shirt. I blew gently on the wet patch of skin and felt him shiver.

His voice deepened considerably. "Babe, I'm good in the shower…really good. I don't...I won't…disappoint."

He ran his hands up the sides of my torso and rubbed his thumbs over my breasts making my nipples harden with the first pass. I couldn't take anymore of this slow foreplay.

"In that case, I guess I could let you audition for me…"

His mouth found mine again as the door swung open. He lifted me and I automatically wrapped my legs around his waist and, together, we crossed the threshold.

**The End**


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